All My Loving
by SpicySugar
Summary: Hermione is engaged to Ron and Harry to Ginny and everyone is happy, or so they think. What happens when memories brew sexual tension between Harry and Hermione? Who really loves who? Is it love at all? H/Hr/R love triangle. Romance/Drama/Angst/Tragedy.
1. I Don't Want To Die Alone

Author's Note: You all are incredible. You've gotten a long lost fanfiction writer quite solidly out of retirement. After the amount of fun I had with Faith, I couldn't possibly stop there. Please enjoy my newest creation, All My Loving. Unlike Faith, this is a Harry/Hermione/Ron romance. Disclaimer is that I naturally do not own any of Harry Potter.

* * *

**All My Loving**

_Chapter One_

[[This chapter is designed to be a series of flashbacks, hence why they are all in italics. You should be able to glean from context where in the books/movies I am expounding these from.]]

* * *

_Harry was not used to holding and comforting crying women… it was not something he was precisely good at… Yet there he was, his arms wrapped around his best friend as she sobbed into his shoulder while they sat on the stairs in the Astronomy Tower._

_When it came to Hermione, Harry normally sided with Ron, but this time, he had to play Switzerland. On the one hand, Harry knew Ron couldn't deny the ridiculous hormones that had surely erupted when Lavender threw herself on him… but on another hand… Hermione was upset… she clearly fancied Ron…_

_Hermione sniffled and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve, looking up at Harry._

"_Harry… Oh Harry… what would I ever do without you?"_

_Harry smiled. "You'd be fine, but I think I'd be dead by now without you."_

_Hermione smiled back in spite of her tears. "You're stronger than you think, Harry."_

_Harry was silent for a moment. "I don't know about that."_

"_You are," she insisted. "Most people couldn't make it through what you have even in their wildest dreams."_

"_Or nightmares," Harry added quietly, looking away. Hermione wiped away a final tear and touched a hand to Harry's shoulder._

"_Harry…"_

_He looked over at her._

"_I… I know it's hard. I know. I've been there… been here… with you… through everything."_

"_Yeah," he stated. "I know. It means more than I can say."_

_Their gazes locked._

"_I'm never going to leave you, Harry," Hermione whispered. Harry swore she was getting closer to him._

"_I know…" he whispered back. Was he getting closer to her? Was that just his imagination?_

"_Harry…"_

"_Hermione…"_

_He watched her eyes flutter closed and his followed suit as their lips touched hesitantly. It began sweetly, tenderly… innocently… he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer, while his other hand rested on her thigh. She leaned into him, draping her arms over his shoulders and playing with his hair. Experimenting, he deepened the kiss, playing at her lips with his tongue until she brought her own to join his. Their tongues danced together, slowly at first, but eventually faster and more desperate. Soon Harry was sitting with his back against the wall and Hermione in his lap. They were kissing fiercely, desperately, like tomorrow didn't exist and yesterday didn't matter._

_It felt like it had been hours, ages, forever, when they finally broke apart, panting. Brown stared into green before either of them could manage words._

"_Wow…"_

"_That was…"_

_Neither of them could finish. Hermione became aware that she was in Harry's lap and deftly slid off of his legs and onto the stairs beside him._

"_Maybe…"_

"_I think…"_

_Hermione sighed deeply and Harry leaned over to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She sank her weight into him._

"_Harry…"_

"_Hermione?"_

"_What was that…"_

_Harry smiled, though she couldn't see his face as her head was leaning on his chest and her gaze was staring at the wall across from them._

"_I believe that's what's called a kiss."_

_He couldn't see her, but she smiled at the obvious and simple answer._

"_It was a very good kiss."_

"_Was it?" he asked. She nodded into his chest._

_They shared a silence before Harry dared to voice what was on his mind._

"_Makes you a bit of a hypocrite, you know…" he said softly. Hermione sighed, knowing he was referring to her blatant affection for Ron. She sat up and looked at Harry._

"_I know, I'm sorry, I just…" she trailed off._

"_Wanted it?" Harry asked quietly._

_He took her silence as admission._

"_Me too," he whispered, looking down. Hermione bit her lip, then put her arms around Harry's neck and drew him close to her._

_"We don't have to tell anyone," she whispered in his ear. "It'll be our secret."_

"_Right…" Harry whispered back, putting his arms around her waist to return the hug. She sniffled one last time and buried her head in Harry's shoulder a moment before kissing him on the cheek and slowly standing._

"_It's late. We should get back to the common room…" she said quietly. Harry nodded._

"_I'll be along. You go."_

_Hermione was almost relieved at this. She knew they both wanted to be alone with their thoughts._

"_Don't wait too long," she warned, and quietly walked out of the Astronomy Tower. Harry stared after her, then buried his face in his hands._

_What had he done?_

_

* * *

_

_Harry stirred awake and shivered. The covers had fallen off while he slept and the biting winter air was seeping into the tent. Instinctively he looked around the room for Ron before remembering that he had been gone for nearly a week, now._

_He shivered again and remembered Hermione sitting outside, watching. Keeping guard._

_Guarding from what?_

_He sighed and sat up, rolling his shoulders. They were totally alone, just he and Hermione, yet they were unable to spend any quality time together. One always had to be outside. Watching. Guarding._

_Harry knew it was a necessary evil. He knew that it never hurt to be safe, to be extra careful, just in case someone broke through the charms. But they'd been lucky so far, hadn't they?_

_Harry had been alone all his life. The one person who knew him best, the one woman he'd always been closest to, was sitting just outside the tent. She wasn't used to being alone._

_Despite Harry's familiarity with loneliness, he couldn't deny his need for company just then. To hold someone, to know someone was close._

_Making up his mind, Harry stood from the cot and slowly made his way outside to Hermione. As soon as he stepped outside the tent and felt the steely cold air he immediately wished for the semi-warmth of the tent again._

_Hermione was sitting with her knees held close to her chest._

_She was shivering._

_Harry knelt behind her and slowly began rubbing her shoulders. She jumped a little at the touch but relaxed when she realized it was Harry._

"_Harry… you need to sleep… go back inside…"_

"_Only if you come with me," he whispered. Hermione shook her head._

"_No. One of us always needs to be watching. Just in case."_

_Harry sighed._

"_I miss you, Hermione."_

_Hermione turned her head to look at him._

"_I'm right here, Harry."_

"_You're right here, but… we're never together. I miss being together. I miss Hogwarts. I miss sitting together in the Great Hall. I miss having late night talks with you in the common room. Hell, I even miss the crazy adventures – they seem like trivial playthings compared to this."_

_Hermione was silent but kept his gaze._

"_I miss you," he said again._

_She sighed._

"_I miss you, too."_

_He gave her a small smile. "Won't you come inside with me? Just for a little while. You can even conjure up one of those portable fires of yours…"_

_She smiled._

"_My logic says no but my heart says yes."_

"_It's no fair to your heart to always cater to logic."_

_He knelt in front of her and took her hands in his. They felt like ice. She shivered again._

"_You're cold. At least come inside with me to get warm."_

_She bit her lip. The offer was clearly tempting._

"_Hermione…"_

"_Fine," she said finally. "But only for a little while."_

_Harry smiled and helped her to her feet, then led her by the hand back into the tent. She visibly relaxed when she was back in the warmth._

"_So, about that fire?" Harry asked. Hermione smiled and conjured up a fire that would have looked very at home in a fireplace, except it was hovering in the middle of the tent about six inches off the floor._

"_How's that?"_

"_Perfect," he replied. He sat down in front of the fire and patted the floor next to him. Hermione followed suit and joined him. She habitually leaned against him and he wrapped his arms around her. They let the silence speak for them for a while, watching the flames and enjoying the feeling of each other being so close._

"_Harry…" Hermione said softly. Harry looked down at her and she met his gaze._

"_Yes, Hermione?"_

"_I'm scared…" she whispered. Harry was shocked. It was the first time he could ever remember Hermione admitting being frightened over anything, besides perhaps final exams…_

"_Me too…" he whispered back._

_When neither of them looked away Harry was distinctly reminded of that day last year… of their stolen, passionate kiss in the Astronomy Tower… they'd never spoken of it but neither of them had forgotten. It would have been impossible to forget, Harry realized. He couldn't honestly say that he could look at her lips and not remember the time that they had been pressed desperately against his as she clung to him like he was her last string of life…_

_They had both felt hopelessly alone, then, and clutched to the only thing close that could give them comfort._

_How much more alone, desolate, and deserted were they now?_

_No one would see, no one would know…_

"_Harry…" she said again. Her voice was so soft and delicate._

"_Yes, Hermione?" he replied._

"_I need you…"_

_Harry said nothing as he looked down into her eyes. They were deep, needy, desperate…_

"_Hermione, I…" he dared not continue for fear of what might come out of his mouth._

"_You're all I have left," she said, and he saw her eyes glaze over with tears. "My parents are lost to me, our friends are all in danger, Ron has left…"_

_Harry hurt with her, felt her pain, saw her hopelessness…_

"_Harry… you're all I have… I don't want to die alone…"_

_As she said it, Harry felt his stomach disappear._

_Cedric had died alone._

_Sirius had died alone._

_Dumbledore had died alone._

_Mad-Eye had died alone._

_He'd be damned if he was going to let his closest friend die alone._

_And so, he did the only thing he could think of to do… the one thing that felt right… the one thing that would momentarily heal them both, that would make them forget their worries, trials, troubles, and fears…_

_He kissed her._

_He was almost surprised when she readily responded, kissing him back slowly and tenderly. His tongue dipped lazily to meet hers as he gently laid her backwards onto the floor. The fire crackled warmly beside them as they kissed more passionately, Harry clutching at Hermione's hair while she ran her hands down his back, sides and chest. As they kissed, Hermione unzipped his sweatshirt and helped him shrug it off. He momentarily broke the kiss and helped her out of her own jacket – they were inside by the fire now, she didn't need it anymore… The two articles of clothing were tossed to the side, but before Harry could resume kissing Hermione, she had leaned up and placed her lips on his neck._

_Harry groaned as her lips massaged his skin and he felt his jeans tighten. It had been so long since he'd felt sensations like that… so long since the days he and Ginny had spent stealing kisses in the castle…_

_He almost felt guilty when he roughly pushed the memory of Ginny out of his mind to focus on Hermione… who was now tugging at the hem of his shirt. It soon joined their jackets and he moaned as she began kissing her way down his chest._

"_Hermione… what…"_

_"Shh…" she whispered, and she kissed him again, letting her fingers trace delicately along his chest and abs. He shivered at her touch despite the warmth of the fire._

"_I want this…" she said quietly. "I want you. I need you, tonight." He looked down at her chocolate eyes and saw pure need. Desire._

_Fuck it. Hadn't be been the one to think that they were totally alone, that no one would know?_

"_I want you, too…" he whispered, and bent down to kiss and nibble at her neck. She moaned quietly and he pulled away to help her lift her shirt over her head. It joined his and she was left in a baby blue bra, jeans, and…_

"_Shoes…" she gigged nervously, and kicked hers off. Harry smiled and did the same before capturing her lips in another kiss, letting his torso rub against hers and loving the feeling of skin on skin._

_Despite her actions so far he was still slightly surprised when he felt her fingers fumbling with his belt. He helped her out a little and managed to get his jeans to his ankles, where he kicked them off on top of their shoes. Following her lead, he unfastened her jeans and slowly slid them down her legs to reveal a pair of blue panties that matched her bra._

_Harry suddenly became very aware that he and his best friend were totally alone, by a warm and cozy fire, and clothed only in undergarments._

"_Hermione…" he said, his voice hoarse and uncertain._

"_Harry," she whispered. "Don't think… just do… just feel…"_

_And feel, he did, when he realized she was gripping his erection through his boxers and slowly stroking it. He moaned in response and leaned down and sucked on her neck, earning a responsive moan from her. He gently coaxed her back a few inches off the ground and reached behind her to unclasp her bra. He fumbled with it for a few moments before achieving success and when she felt it loosen she lowered herself to the floor again and looked up at him expectantly._

"_It's okay, Harry…"_

_Harry sighed with desire and realized that they were about to cross a line. Neither of them had seen the other so exposed and vulnerable as this… He took hold of her bra straps and slowly, steadily, pulled it down her arms until she was free of it. He laid it on the growing pile of their clothes and looked down at her exposed chest._

_For the first time she looked nervous. She bit her lip and wiggled a bit under his gaze. Her hair was splayed out behind her head, her chest raised up and down with her heavy breaths, and her eyes danced in the firelight._

"_Hermione… you're so beautiful…" he murmured. She smiled._

"_And you're so handsome," she replied softly. He met her eyes briefly before returning his gaze to her chest and carefully taking her breasts in his hands. Her eyes slowly closed as he fondled and massaged. He felt her nipples hard in his palms and felt himself get harder at the sensation. Slowly, he leaned down and replaced his right hand with his mouth. She gasped and opened her eyes and he glanced up and met them before she closed them again as he licked and sucked her nipple. After a few moments he felt her pulling at his boxers and he lifted himself a little and helped her slide them off of his legs. He kicked them on top of his jeans and then he realized that he was completely naked. When he looked up to meet Hermione's eyes he realized that she was grasping this fact, as well, because her eyes were focused between his legs._

_Harry smiled nervously and leaned down to kiss her. She responded easily and as she was returning the kiss, he slid her panties off her waist and she helped them the rest of the way to her toes, where she kicked them off. Not breaking the kiss, Harry gently used his right hand to caress her thigh before sneaking his hand slowly between her legs. He dipped a finger into her crevice and she moaned into the kiss, gasping and pulling him closer to her. He played for a little, rubbing and teasing, before slowly sliding one finger inside her. She moaned into his mouth at the feeling and Harry continued in slow movements. She was warm, wet, and tight… if she felt that good around his finger, he couldn't imagine how wonderful…_

"_Take me, Harry…" she whispered, breaking the kiss. Harry gazed down at her, uncertain._

"_Are you sure?" he asked, slowly removing his hand from between her legs and running it along her hair._

"_Yes, I… I'm sure…" she panted. Harry bit his lip and stared into her eyes._

"_Have you ever… done this… before?" he asked softly._

_She took a small breath. "No…"_

_Harry swallowed._

"_Neither have I…"_

"_First time for everything…" she whispered, and leaned up and touched her lips to his. He swirled his tongue with hers and broke the kiss to look down at her again._

"_You're absolutely sure…"_

"_Only if you are," she replied._

_Harry decided that he'd be deluding himself if he tried to convince himself that he was naked, on top of a beautiful naked woman, and didn't want to have sex with her…_

"_Yes…" he said, and kissed her again. He felt one of her hands on his erection and realized she was guiding him to her entrance. Once he was there he felt it… he had gone into her ever so slightly. She bit her lip and looked up at him._

"_Please go slowly… it will hurt me…"_

_Harry's eyes immediately flooded with concern._

"_I don't want to hurt you…" he said._

"_It will only be a little, and only at first," she assured him quietly. "You'll know."_

_Harry bit his lip, then leaned down and kissed her deeply while he pushed himself into her. Centimeter by centimeter, he felt her warmth surrounding him and he realized there was no better feeling in the world…_

_Until, at the same time, he heard her wince and felt a slight resistance against the tip of his erection… a barrier…_

_She broke the kiss._

"_Don't stop, Harry, please… you can't stop, you have to keep going…"_

_Harry didn't know what to do._

"_I… Hermione, I don't…"_

"_Please, Harry, please…" she cried softly. Harry felt torn but knew that he had to keep going, despite how much it hurt her._

"_Hermione…" he whispered, and leaned down and captured her lips in a deep and passionate kiss as he thrust further into her and felt the barrier break. Hermione let out a small yelp but he did not release her lips, just kept kissing her to distract her until he was all the way inside her. Once they were fully joined he broke the kiss and hovered a few inches above her, both of them panting._

"_Are you all right?" he asked softly. She nodded. "Do you want to keep going?" he asked hesitantly. She paused, then nodded again._

"_It will get better," she promised him. He took a deep breath and kissed her neck as he slowly pulled almost all the way out of her and then just as slowly thrust back in again. He couldn't help it, he moaned at the sensation. It felt so wonderful, so amazing… He almost didn't realize that she had moaned, too._

"_Good?" he asked, worried._

"_Yes… very good…" she said softly. "Keep going…"_

_He lifted his mouth away from her neck and hovered above her again, this time locking his gaze with hers as he pulled out and thrust in again. He couldn't get over how amazing she felt…_

"_You can go faster, Harry…" she said quietly. Harry bit his lip again and pulled out and thrust in a bit faster than before._

"_Keep going, don't stop…" she said, and he heard her breath catch as he thrust in again. Watching her face the whole time, he dared to get steadier and faster, waiting for any sign that she was in pain or that he should stop…_

_Instead, her eyes closed in pleasure and her breathing was coming in steady gasps._

_Once Harry was sure that he wouldn't hurt her again he allowed himself to get lost in the feelings and the pleasure. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before…_

"_Harry… Harry… Mmmm…" she moaned, and Harry couldn't believe how something so simple could turn him on so much. As he sped up, his breathing came in shallow gasps and his own moans of pleasure soon mingled with Hermione's._

"_Ohhh, God… Hermione… Oh, Hermione…"_

_Suddenly he became aware that an orgasm was building inside him. He only had to go a little more, a little faster, a little harder… Hermione's moans got louder as he sped up even more and he knew as he looked down at her face, her eyes closed and her lips parted in ecstasy, that surely there was no better feeling in the world than this…_

"_Hermione… Oh my God, Hermione… oh fuck yes…" he said as he felt himself come. Hermione's hands tangled in his hair and pulled him into a kiss as he spilled inside of her, shaking and shuddering from the pleasure. When he was spent he lifted himself up, supporting his weight with his hands on either side of her head as he gazed down at her._

"_That was… unbelievable…" he said, panting._

"_I agree," she replied, also breathing heavily. He smiled and leaned down to place a tender kiss on her lips as he pulled out of her._

"_Ugh…" she said, and closed her eyes, her face contorting in disgust._

"_What?" asked Harry._

"_Little Harrys are spilling out of me…" she groaned. Harry fought a laugh as he realized she meant that the force of gravity was acting on the semen he had spilled inside her… it was slowly dripping out of her entrance and onto the floor._

"_Here, I'll get you a rag…" he said, and stood up, grabbing his boxers and putting them on as he walked to the kitchen. He located a small cloth and soaked it in warm water before walking back over to Hermione, still lying in the same spot on the floor by the fire. Her eyes were closed._

"_This should help," he said quietly, and she opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him, seeing the cloth in his hand._

"_Thank you, Harry," she replied. Harry, wanting to give her at least a sense of privacy, grabbed his jeans and walked over to his cot to put them back on._

_Had he really just lost his virginity to his best friend?_

_Even worse… had he really just taken his best friend's virginity?_

_Yes, he had… and he guiltily admitted to himself that he'd loved every second of it… besides the part where he hurt her…_

_Had she loved it just as much? Or would she hate him forever?_

"_Harry…" he heard her call softly. He turned around to see her standing. She'd put back on her jeans and her bra._

"_Hermione?"_

_She slowly walked over to him and slipped her arms around his waist, letting her head rest on his chest. He placed his arms around her shoulders and pulled her tightly to him._

"_Thank you…" she whispered._

"_For what?" he asked._

"_Everything."_

_

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_AN: I know there's not a lot to review since these are flashbacks, but reviews are appreciated anyway. Chapter two will pick up when Harry, Ron, and Hermione are all 21. It will be up shortly, I promise. :)


	2. Joshua Robertson

**Chapter Two**

_Joshua Robertson_

* * *

"I swear on the grave of Merlin, if I have to read _one more thing_ about Joshua Robertson, I'm going to castrate myself…"

Hermione stifled a laugh at her fiancé's blatant lack of patience.

"Ronald, you know it's for the best. Simon thinks he's really close to a breakthrough on this…"

Ron glared at her.

"Have _you_ come up with any clever ideas on what he's doing or where exactly he is?"

Hermione was silent.

"That's what I thought. Being that you're the smartest witch I've ever met and probably _loads_ more intelligent than Simon, I very much doubt he's made any headway either…"

Hermione huffed.

"Did you ever consider that perhaps Simon has more information than just what we've been researching?" she prodded.

"What else could there be?" Ron demanded. "We've looked up every possible thing on him…"

"That's not necessarily true…"

Ron sighed deeply and turned back to the parchment he was poring over. "Believe what you want, but I still say we're fighting a losing battle here…"

Hermione glared at the back of his head and returned to her own parchment. She and Ron shared an office in the Ministry of Magic as entry-level Aurors. Much to Ron's dismay "entry-level" meant doing a whole lot of research and not a lot of action. Simon was their boss and had been hesitant to assign them to a team together when he discovered they were dating, but Hermione assured him that they were both capable of keeping the relationship strictly professional at work. So far, they had succeeded, even after they became officially engaged a few months previously.

Despite the large and supposedly fruitless workload she'd been given, she decided that she couldn't be happier. She was 22 with a decent job, a fantastic fiancé, a flat of her own that she shared with said fiancé, and two of the best friends she could ask for – Harry and Ginny – who were also engaged.

Hermione stole a glance at the empty desk next to her where Harry sometimes sat. As Harry was independently wealthy thanks to his parents, he didn't need the stress of a "day job" and turned down the offer when Simon had presented it to him. However, Harry did come in as a sort of "back-up" when Hermione and Ron were overworked or one of them would be out for a while. Hermione wished he were there that day so that he might lighten Ron's mood a little.

"Do you want to break for lunch? Maybe we just need to get out of the office for a bit," Hermione suggested. Ron checked his watch.

"It's only eleven, are you sure?" he asked.

"Why not?" she countered. "Food always makes you smile."

Ron laughed. "All right, might as well…"

* * *

"I'll take a chicken salad sandwich, please – with mashed potatoes, not chips."

Ron rolled his eyes at her before ordering.

"I'll take the fried chicken, and I'm definitely fine with chips."

"They'll be out for you in just a few minutes!" the waitress cooed, and turned and walked away from their table with her hips swaying ridiculously. Hermione snorted in disgust.

"Some women have no decency…" she grumbled.

"What?" Ron asked.

"You can't tell me you didn't notice…"

Ron looked at her quizzically.

"Well she was _clearly_ checking you out despite my presence _right across from you_ and she had definitely unbuttoned one more button on her blouse after she took our drink orders…"

"Definitely must have missed that," he said. "But so what?"

"It's… it's… just… rude and… disgusting! To _openly_ flirt with someone who is _obviously_ taken…"

"Hermione…"

"What!"

Ron smiled.

"Calm down."

She huffed.

"Love, I'm all yours," he said, taking her hands in his. "I'm sure as hell not leaving someone like you for a café waitress with no self respect."

Hermione was floored.

"I love you," he finished. He kissed her hand.

"I love you, too…" she mumbled. Immediately she felt guilty for even entertaining the thought that Ron was enjoying the waitress's attention. It was honestly amazing how much he'd changed since their Hogwarts days…

Love did that to people, she supposed.

* * *

"How's our sales looking, Gin?"

"Perfect, as always!" she called back. She rolled her eyes, wondering why George ever even asked her anymore. She didn't recall Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes ever having a bad day, and she'd been working there since she graduated from Hogwarts three years previously. She had sort of unofficially-officially taken Fred's place in the partnership after he'd died in the war. George had taken full advantage of this and loaded all the boring dirty paperwork on her while he got to have fun stocking shelves and greeting customers. Ginny resented this on occasion, but it gave her time with her brother and it was a good-paying job with a lot of perks and benefits since she was in the family. George did let her handle sales sometimes, as long as it wasn't for a handsome guy.

"Need I remind you that I am _engaged_?" she would hiss every time this happened. "I'm not going to go gallivanting off with some hot teenager!"

"I know _that_," George would say, "But I don't need slimy little Hogwarts gits eyeing up my baby sister!"

"I'm not a baby any more…" she would grumble.

"You're 20, and I'm 23. You'll always be a baby to me," he'd reply with a smile.

And so, Ginny had learned to deal with doing paperwork and finances and dealing with the occasional clueless mother buying birthday presents for her son while the gorgeous seventh-year Hogwarts boys were all handled by George.

Sighing, she looked out the window. It had started snowing again… it was coming down in huge flakes and was already starting to stick to the sidewalk.

"George, I'm going to run outside and put another impervius charm on the sidewalk… it's snowing…"

"Again!" George called, poking his head out of the backroom and staring out the window in disbelief.

"Yes… again," Ginny sighed. "It's December, what do you expect?"

"It's also past eleven and we're going to get the lunch break rush soon… parents coming in to sneak some Christmas presents during the workday…"

"Yes, George, I know, it happens every day…"

"No need to get snippy!" he called, beaming. "Smile a bit, will you?"

Ginny gave him a brief grin before sliding out the door and removing her wand from her back pocket.

"I already took care of the impervius charm," came a male voice, and Ginny jumped nearly a foot in the air before she noticed it was Harry, who was standing behind her and smiling.

"Harry!" she cried. "How long have you been there?"

"About fifteen seconds," he replied. "Showed up to surprise you and noticed the snow, so I figured I'd help you out a bit before stopping in."

Ginny beamed and threw her arms around him.

"You've just made my day," she murmured into his chest.

"Don't I always?" he asked slyly, and pulled her into a kiss.

"Oi!" came George's voice as he stepped outside. "You're going to scare away my customers!"

Ginny was pleased to see he was joking, but stepped away from Harry anyway.

"Nice to see you, mate," George said, pulling Harry into a hug. "Come by to pick up anything or just to harass my sister?"

"Well when you put it that way…" Harry began with a smile.

"Come on, come inside where it's warm, I've got a new product I want to show you anyway…" George said, and the three of them shuffled back inside. Ginny took her place behind the front desk and Harry leaned against it to talk to her while George scurried to the back of the store.

"How's work?" he asked.

"Same as it always is," she replied with a weak smile. "George has all the fun while I do all the work."

Harry smirked. "Are you honestly surprised?"

"Not in the slightest," she replied. "Just gets boring sometimes…"

"Better than sitting at home with your mum doing chores," Harry reminded her. Ginny laughed.

"True, I do enough of that when I get off of work… she just can't bear for her youngest to leave home yet, you know?"

Harry grinned. "I hope she realizes that once we get married, I'm not moving into the Burrow with you…"

Ginny glanced down at the stunning diamond on her left hand before replying. "Yes, dear, I think she knows that… she won't _like_ it, but she knows… Honestly she's just thrilled that Harry Potter is marrying into her family…"

Harry laughed. "I practically already am her family, nothing is going to change."

"Yes, well, you know mum. Likes things to be official and all."

"Here it is!" came George's voice, and he emerged carrying a square glass case, inside of which was a white mold of a human head and what appeared to be an ordinary bottle of ink, though Harry knew better than to think that George would create anything remotely ordinary…

"Ink?" Harry asked.

"Not just _any_ bottle of ink…" George said in his best salesman voice.

"All right, I'll bite, what does it do?" Harry asked. "And why's it in a glass case?"

"So as not to make a mess," George said slyly, and pushed a small button on the side of the case, which caused the cork in the ink bottle to wiggle out. There was a pause, and then ink squirted out of the bottle and all over the mold of the head. Ginny, who had seen this demonstration multiple times, paid no attention. Harry, on the other hand, burst out laughing.

"That's fantastic! Simple, but brilliant! What do you call it?"

"I think I've decided to name it 'Geyser Ink,'" George answered, waving his wand to replace the ink back in its bottle. "The perfect anonymous Christmas gift for any teacher you don't like."

"What I wouldn't have given to see that used on Umbridge," Harry said, still chuckling.

"Well, I can't give you that," George admitted, "But I'll give you the chance to see it used on anyone else you'd like!"

He waved his wand and a small purple box appeared in his hand, which he presented to Harry.

"One brand-new bottle of Geyser Ink, just for you! It's not even on the shelves yet, I'm revealing it about two weeks before Christmas… in about a week or so."

Harry, knowing from experience that it would do no good to refuse a free product from George, accepted it with his thanks and put it in his pocket with a promise to give him a full account of the experience of the unfortunate person he used it on.

"Is it all right if I steal Ginny for lunch?" Harry asked George.

"Sure, mate! Just don't go too much over an hour…" he cautioned, but he was smiling.

"I'll do my best," Harry assured him. "Shall we?" he asked, looking over at Ginny and holding out his hand.

"Absolutely," she said, taking his hand and following him out the door.

George stared after them, shaking his head and smiling.

"Ah, young love…"

* * *

"Finally home…" Ron groaned at five o' clock that evening as he slumped down onto the couch in his and Hermione's flat. Hermione sat down next to him and scooted close to him.

"What would you like for dinner?" she asked as she laid her head on his shoulder. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head before replying.

"As long as it doesn't involve parchment, Robertson, or a damn constrictive desk, I don't care."

She rolled her eyes.

"Shepherd's pie?" she suggested.

"Sounds amazing."

"Perfect," Hermione said, and hopped off the couch. "I'll have it ready in about an hour."

Ron sighed as Hermione disappeared into the kitchen and he grabbed the Daily Prophet that they had picked up on the way home off of the coffee table. It had been difficult – but pleasantly so, if that were possible – to get used to seeing front-page headlines that had nothing to do with Voldemort. Ron knew that he'd even caught Harry still cringing from time to time as he perused the paper, just waiting to turn a page and see another Wanted ad for a Death Eater, another muggle murder account, another disaster that Voldemort had caused…

With a deep breath Ron turned past the front page, not really reading as he reflected. He, Hermione, and Harry had been told that Death Eaters weren't a worry any more. Most had been caught and put in Azkaban for life sentences. A few had died. The rest were missing and presumed dead. It was standard policy to be on the lookout for any discrepancies in these findings but they were not-so-subtly told to keep it on the backburner of their brains as there were more pressing matters of the present to worry about, rather than getting caught in the past. This had been especially difficult for Harry. As soon as he realized he would be in an Auror office occasionally that was filled to the brim with information on Dark wizards, he was just burning to tear the files apart and track down any last follower of Voldemort. Hermione and Ron had been forced to caution him against it and said that he'd lose his privilege to work with an Auror team at all if he tried to force orders that weren't his.

Harry had been visibly disappointed but still came in without complaint to help he and Hermione out on occasion if they needed an extra hand.

Shaking his head at Harry's eagerness to put himself in dangerous situations, Ron turned another page of the paper but froze when he saw the headline.

**REPORTED SIGHTING OF JOSHUA ROBERTSON PANICS WIZARDING COMMUNITY**

_GERMAN MINISTRY OF MAGIC TO PURSUE LEADS_

_Joshua Robertson, a convicted dealer of illegal potions, was imprisoned several years ago for a two-year term in Azkaban. His stay there seriously unhinged his mind and, upon his release, he allegedly went on a killing spree and supposedly murdered ten muggles and two witches within a two week time frame. While he was being held awaiting trial for these crimes, he reportedly escaped the holding room and disappeared. While he was never found, there were no further murders committed in the same style that he was accused of doing (multiple stab wounds before hanging). There was much speculation about his location shortly after his fleeing, but when no further murder victims turned up, people assumed that he had either gone into hiding or possibly killed himself from guilt or grief._

"_If you ask me, the fact that he ran away from being held trial just proves his guilt," one wizard commented shortly after Robertson's escape. "I think he didn't want to go back to Azkaban, so he went and offed himself."_

"_I tell you what, I've never let my girls out of my sight since he's been on the run," said Matilda Mackey, a mother of three teen girls. "I think he's still out there just biding his time."_

_It would appear that Ms Mackey was correct in her thinking, because Joshua Robertson has allegedly been seen walking in a back alley of Munich, Germany. (See photo below). The wizard who captured the photo unfortunately did so with a muggle camera, but magical enhancements have enabled forensic wizards to illuminate the photo enough to make out a few of the details of the face of the person in the photo. Numerous people who had a lot of face-to-face contact with Robertson have admitted that it's possible that it is indeed Robertson in the photo._

_The German Ministry of Magic is hot in pursuit of any leads they can find on Robertson and is currently in cooperation with the British Ministry of Magic to orchestrate his location and capture._

Below the article was a grainy and somewhat blurry photo. It showed the profile of a man wearing a long jacket and a fedora pulled low over his eyes. Based on the mugshot photos he had seen of Robertson, Ron would have been willing to bet that was him.

"Hermione!" he called, not taking his eyes off the page.

"Yes?" she called back from the kitchen.

"I think you should see this…"

She walked briskly into the living room, a wooden spoon in her hand that was coated in mashed potato.

"What is it?"

"Look," he said, and handed her the paper. She took it with the hand that wasn't holding the spoon and scanned it briefly, her eyes getting wider as she read.

"We need to take this to Simon first thing in the morning," she declared, handing the paper back to him.

"Don't you think he already knows?" Ron asked.

"Maybe, maybe not. Either way, we need to make sure he sees it."

"Right," said Ron, and looked back at the picture.

Yes, he would have been willing to bet every galleon in his Gringotts vault that Robertson was the man in that photo.


	3. Mission: Impossible

**Chapter Three**

_Mission: Impossible_

* * *

Ron and Hermione came to the Ministry the following morning armed with the clipping from the newspaper they'd seen the day before.

"I'm telling you, he has to already know this… the article said that the German and British Ministries were already collaborating…"

"Then he may have already known everything we've told him up to this point," Hermione said defiantly. "Regardless, it is _our job_ to tell him anything we find on Robertson, whether we discover it in our off time or not."

"Right…" Ron grumbled, but it still seemed to him they were on a pointless mission.

They arrived outside Simon's office door – just down the hall from their own – at a little past eight o'clock. Hermione reached up and knocked briskly on the door. It opened almost immediately and Simon appeared in the doorway.

Simon was in his fifties, but with the look of a very seasoned Auror. His face contained lines and wrinkles that the average man wouldn't have been graced with for at least another decade. His eyebrows seemed to be constantly furrowed in thought and there were faint scars covering his visible skin from various wounds he had received throughout the years. His dark wizard fighting days were over, but he was the nominal head of the Auror office and was an excellent leader and example for the rest of them.

Not, of course, that Ron and Hermione had been on any actual missions to glean this expertise from, nor that they even needed it because of their life experiences with Harry, but that was a moot point.

"Weasley, Granger," Simon said gruffly. "I was just about to come and retrieve you from your office…"

Ron's eyebrows raised in curiosity but Hermione plowed on with her planned speech.

"Sir, Ron and I were reading the Daily Prophet last night, and we found this article on Robertson…" She presented the clipping to him. "It's breaking news, sir, he was only just sighted two nights ago…"

Simon took the clipping, gave it a half glance, and looked back at Hermione.

"I appreciate your dedication to the task before you, Granger, but this information is not new to me," Simon said.

"Told you…" murmured Ron. Hermione glared at him.

"I was actually coming to find the two of you to brief you on all the information we have on Robertson thus far," Simon continued. "However, since you seem to have saved me the trip, please step inside my office," he finished, and stood aside to let them through.

Ron glanced nervously at Hermione but she was already walking past Simon with her head held high. Ron resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he followed her. Simon closed the door behind them and took his place sitting behind his desk.

"Please, sit," he said, motioning to the leather chairs across from the large mahogany desk. Ron and Hermione did as they were told and waited for Simon to start.

Simon heaved a very deep sigh before beginning.

"Joshua Robertson was convicted three years ago of brewing and selling illegal potions. His products were vast and his clientele large. He served two years in Azkaban before being released. This you know."

"Yes, sir," they replied in unison.

"After his release he supposedly went crazy and murdered twelve people in two weeks: ten female muggles and two witches. The only thing they had in common was that they were female; there was nothing else to tie them together at all besides the way that they were murdered, which was—"

"They were all stabbed non-fatally multiple times with a short knife before being hung by the neck from the ceiling," Hermione supplied, interrupting.

"Correct, Granger," Simon replied, seemingly unbothered by the interruption. "None of that was ever proved, as Robertson fled before his trial. However, there was strong convicting evidence against him and the wizarding world held very little doubt that Robertson was guilty."

Ron and Hermione nodded. None of this was new information to them. Simon pressed on.

"As you saw from the paper last night, Robertson was spotted in Germany."

Simon paused as Ron and Hermione affirmed this.

"What the paper did _not_ say," Simon continued, "was that Robertson was also captured and brought into custody yesterday afternoon."

"What!" Hermione and Ron exclaimed in unison.

"That information is currently being kept from the public, and I will explain why in a moment. Robertson is currently being held in the Department of Mysteries, where he underwent extensive questioning with multiple heavy doses of Veritaserum alongside various Psychiatric Healers."

"Well then surely that proved his guilt, he must have confessed to everything," Hermione suggested.

Simon gave her a hard look for a moment before replying.

"If only it were that easy, Granger," he began. "Veritaserum is a very tricky truth potion. It forces the person who takes it to tell the truth, but it cannot force the person to tell things that they do not know or remember."

"But I thought Veritaserum could draw out even the most mundane things from a person's memory?" Hermione asked. "Even if they happened ten years ago!"

Simon sighed.

"This is technically true, but what you have stated is a person still _having_ the memory. It is just buried beneath other, more important memories. The Veritaserum is, therefore, still able to seek it out. Veritaserum cannot locate a memory that no longer exists, however."

Hermione bit her lip. "But sir, even memories that have been psychologically suppressed, or people suffering from severe cases of amnesia, have had memories forced out of them by Veritaserum. Wouldn't those be similar cases?"

"You are very sharp, Granger, and one would think that. But consider someone who has been, say, _obliviated_. A spell has actually removed their memories. They are not suppressed; they are gone and stored in the core of the wand of the wizard who performed the spell, unreachable by the mind of the victim and therefore any truth potion he takes."

Hermione squirmed nervously. She knew that fact well, as she had been the one to take her parents' memories, modify them, and then return them to them after Voldemort had been defeated. It had been a very tricky and difficult process, but she had managed it.

"But then… what, besides a powerful spell, could cause someone's memories to completely vanish?"

Simon smiled sadly. "Many things, I am sure, but it appears that it is, indeed, a spell that has caused the absence of Robertson's memories."

"But who…"

"It seems that Robertson knew we were coming for him," Simon replied. "He possibly only had minutes, even mere moments, to prepare before he was accosted on the streets in Germany. When the German Ministry officials located him, he was sitting at the corner of a building, much like a wandering homeless person… babbling incoherently to himself. In his hand he held his wand… but it was broken into two pieces, and the dragon heartstring core was missing entirely."

Hermione and Ron were both speechless.

"He seems to have done a very botched memory removal job," Simon continued. "Very important pieces of information are, of course, missing, but from the extensive questioning he has undergone, we have been able to piece together two very crucial things: the location of his flat in Munich, and the fact that he was once again engaged in selling illegal potions and had several customers lined up for the next month. No matter which way we arranged the questions, he did not know the names of these wizards, so their names were clearly one of the things he had erased from his memory. We have reason to believe, however, that he surely must have had a compilation or list of these wizards somewhere in his flat."

Ron and Hermione were silent, waiting.

"I have gone back and forth over the various options for retrieving this information and how to locate and capture the wizards it contains. My first thought was to send in a skilled Auror immediately, bring the list back to me, and send teams out of find and capture the suspects."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Ron chimed in. It was the first he'd spoken since the explanation began.

"On the surface, it seems like a good idea," Simon countered. "However, there is no guarantee that all of the wizards could be caught at the same time or even on the same day. It would surely cause a public disturbance, which would alert any wizards on the list that were not yet caught and cause them to go further into hiding, thus complicating the situation."

"Oh… right…" Ron said. "That makes sense." Trying to redeem himself, he continued. "So, then, having someone go in by stealth would be a much smarter option?"

Simon smiled.

"In a way. The goal is to arrest each wizard one by one, in secret, with no public attention drawn to them whatsoever. They will simply vanish from existence as far as anyone close to them knows. We are currently in cooperation with the German Ministry of Magic and will petition the cooperation of any other countries necessary to keep the arrests under wraps and not report the wizards as missing."

"That's bloody brilliant," Ron said.

"I like to think I am," Simon replied with a chuckle.

"But sir," Hermione interrupted, "Their families… surely if they have family, they will notice that their relative is missing and report it to the authorities… they will surely tell people they know… word will spread…"

"As soon as we receive word of each arrest, a letter will be sent out to the person the suspect is closest to with a powerful version of the Fidelius charm enclosed in it detailing the arrest. Only the reader of the letter will know the information it contains and they will be unable to dictate it to anyone else."

"But if someone else notices they are missing?" Hermione pressed. "Someone besides the recipient of the letter?"

"The letter will also contain a type of Confundus charm. Anyone who comes to the recipient concerned of the whereabouts of the suspect will be led astray by the letter recipient. Told to not worry about it, that they know where they are, that nothing is wrong, that sort of thing."

Hermione bit her lip, trying to find further loopholes.

"All of the charms will break as soon as the arrests are made public," Simon assured her.

"But how long will that be?" Hermione asked.

"We are not sure," Simon admitted. "It depends on how many wizards need to be arrested and how difficult they are to find."

Simon paused before continuing.

"The decision for who to send on this mission was surprisingly easy," he said. "I would need to be able to send one wizard on the mission indefinitely, to live in Robertson's flat for as long as the arrests take to complete. I would need another to stay behind to create and charm the letters sent to the family members. So, I thought, who better to select than the team I've had researching Robertson from square one?"

Ron and Hermione both gasped rather dramatically.

"Us?" Ron asked. "You've got to be joking…"

"I assure you I am not," Simon countered. "You both have had significant life experience in dealing with dark wizards, and Granger, you are highly proficient in Charms. I have no doubt that you would make an excellent team on this mission. Weasley, I would require you to be sent to Munich while Granger stayed behind to support you with the information and Charms to protect you. Potter would come in as Granger's office team member to cover the backup paperwork and research while you are gone."

Ron and Hermione just stared at him.

"I need your confirmation of acceptance of the mission before I can brief you on specifics," Simon prodded.

"When would I leave?" Ron asked hesitantly.

"Immediately," Simon answered.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other.

"Could we… maybe… have a moment to talk?" Hermione asked.

"Certainly," replied Simon, standing from his chair. "I'll be back in five minutes." He walked out of the room and Hermione and Ron stared after him until the door was firmly closed.

"What… in the hell…" Ron said quietly. Hermione swallowed hard.

"Ron… there's no way we can refuse this. I'm absolutely certain that our jobs are resting on what we say to him…" Ron looked up at her.

"Hermione, I could be gone for days… weeks… maybe even months… I have no idea what I might find in his flat… what if he has hundreds of people waiting to buy from him?"

"I know but… we knew what we were signing up for… we knew the risks… It's not like we haven't been separated before. I mean, I was petrified in second year for _ages_… and then there was all the summer breaks where we didn't see each other… and then when you… when you left us for a while… during the Horcrux hunt…" Hermione voice faded away as she said the last bit. With a jolt, she was brought back in her mind's eye to the day she and Harry had lain together by the fire… the day she lost her virginity while Ron was gone…

"There's one big difference between all those times and now," Ron said, breaking her out of her memories. "We weren't engaged then."

Hermione bit her lip. "That does complicate things a bit but… we're strong, Ron. We're strong as people and we're strong as a couple. We can handle it. Who knows, maybe it'll only be a week and then you'll be home again."

Ron sighed. "Something tells me that's wishful thinking, but it never hurt to hope…"

They were silent for a few moments.

"So, we're going to accept it, then?" Ron asked quietly, looking over at Hermione. She met his gaze and held it.

"Yes… yes, we have to. For the sake of our jobs but also for the greater good."

Silence again.

"I love you so much, Hermione," Ron whispered, taking her hands in his. Hermione swallowed hard.

"I love you, too, Ron…" she replied. He leaned over and brought his lips to hers gently. Hermione fell into the kiss easily and kissed him back passionately, greedily, knowing it would be the last kiss they would share for who knew how long…

"As far as anyone is concerned for all our job's sakes, I walked in and found you two sitting in those chairs exactly as I left you," came Simon's voice from the door. Ron and Hermione broke away quickly, both turning red.

"Sorry, sir," they said together, adjusting themselves.

"Considering the circumstances I'll overlook it this time," he said, and sat down behind his desk again. "Have you decided to accept?"

"Yes, sir," they chorused.

"Good," said Simon. "Weasley, it is absolutely imperative that the location of Robertson's flat be kept under wraps. As such, once you are there, you will not be allowed to return to any place that has the comforts of home – not your flat, not Potter's house, not your family's home, nothing. We cannot risk you bringing someone back to it and the location being jeopardized."

"Yes, sir," Ron said.

"The location is being kept secret for your protection and that of the mission," he continued. "Granger, if you somehow happen to discover the location using that exceedingly clever brain of yours, I need your word that you will not attempt to travel to it."

"Yes, sir," said Hermione.

"I have decided that the best way to complete the arrests, Weasley, is for you to appear to the suspects in the persona of Robertson. As far as anyone knows, Robertson is still at large, so it will come as no shock for his clients to see him. This will be executed, of course, using polyjuice potion. We will be sending a stock with you that has already had Robertson's hair added to it. Should you require more for whatever reason, just let us know."

Ron winced at the idea of having to take the sickening potion in copious amounts, but nodded nonetheless.

"Upon your arrival at the flat, we need you to search it thoroughly. Record any and all relevant findings and send them back to us. If, during your stay, someone should call at the door, make sure to drink polyjuice potion before answering it. If someone is expecting Robertson and an Auror answers the door, that is surely to cause a lot of trouble."

Ron nodded again.

"Further instructions will be provided to you as you send information back to us. Until you have heard from us, lay low and stay out of trouble."

"Yes, sir," Ron said.

"Granger, once Weasley leaves I will assist you in perfecting the charms required for the letters we will be sending. I have no doubt that you will learn quickly and easily."

Hermione nodded.

"With that said, I think we can get you on your way, Weasley," said Simon, standing from his chair. Ron and Hermione did the same as Simon pulled a pocket watch from his jacket and pointed his wand at it. It glowed blue for a moment before he handed it to Ron.

"I have just activated this as a portkey. You will be transported in sixty seconds," said Simon. Ron looked at Hermione, his eyes clearly full of worry.

"It'll be okay, Ron," Hermione assured him, taking his hand and leaning to give him a quick kiss. "You'll be great, and you'll be home before you know it."

"I sure hope so," Ron said. "Good luck back here with all the charms."

"Won't be an issue, I'm sure," she replied. They still hadn't broken eye contact.

"I'll see you soon, Hermione," he said. "I love you."

As he finished the words, he disappeared before her eyes.

"I love you, too…" she whispered. She felt tears tugging at her eyes but she blinked them back. It was their job. It was work. They'd signed up for it, and they were strong. They could handle it.

She could handle it.

"Granger," said Simon gently.

Hermione blinked a few times and looked at him.

"Yes, sir?"

"I'll need you to go to Potter's residence today and inform him that he is temporarily on full-time duty until Weasley's return. As he is on your team, you are permitted to tell him the details of this mission. However, it must stay within your team. I cannot stress enough how important it is to keep all of this tightly under wraps."

"Yes, sir, I understand," Hermione said softly.

"After you visit Potter," Simon continued, and he placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder, "feel free to take the rest of the day off on emotional rest. Full pay."

Hermione forced a smile.

"Sir, that's really not necessary…" she began, but as she said it a single tear fell down her cheek. Simon noticed it and a handkerchief appeared in his hand, which he used to dab away the tear.

"You are strong but your eyes betray you," he said quietly. "I insist, Granger. The day is yours. I don't want you back here until tomorrow morning, with Potter by your side. There is nothing that can be done until we receive information from Weasley, and that will at least take until tomorrow."

Hermione nodded, determined not to show any more weakness.

"I'll see you in the morning. You're dismissed."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said, and turned and walked out of the office with her head held high, heading for the Atrium where she would then floo to Harry's place.


	4. French Toast

**Chapter Four**

_French Toast_

* * *

Ron landed with a resounding thud on the floor of a dingy apartment in downtown Munich. Grumbling to himself that he still hadn't managed to be able to land on his feet when travelling by portkey, he stood up and dusted himself off. His first thought was that his mother would have a heart attack if she'd been forced to live in such a place – absolutely everything was covered in dust, dirt, or a combination of the two. Even Ron wrinkled his nose at the condition of the couch, which looked rather moth-eaten. A shabbily put-together coffee table stood in front of the couch, and on the opposite wall was – surprisingly – a television set. From the bits and pieces of information Ron and learned from his father and Harry, Ron guessed that the set was probably from the 1970s, but he couldn't be entirely sure. On the far wall was what Ron assumed was a door leading to a small balcony, but it was covered in thick tapestry curtains that looked almost antique but were also a bit moth eaten.

On his other side, to his right, was the kitchen. The floor – which probably used to be white – was a dingy yellow color and made of cheap linoleum. The cabinets were all made of plywood and painted white, but they naturally were covered in a thin layer of dirt and were covered with handprints. A tiny table with two plastic chairs stood beneath the small window. The appliances looked to be from about the same era as the television and Ron wondered if they even worked at all anymore. His stomach growled and he realized he was going to be forced to figure out how to cook on his own. Pushing that horrifying thought away, he walked down the small hallway which contained three doors: two on the right and one on the left.

Trying the first door on the right, he found a tiny bathroom. The floor was covered in the same linoleum that graced the kitchen and the small sink and toilet were made out of very old porcelain that had yellowed the same way the rest of the place had. The sink had rust stains all inside of it around the faucet and drain and the toilet hadn't fared much better. The small corner shower looked almost too small for Ron to step into and was also decorated with rust stains. Wondering if Robertson just totally and utterly failed at cleaning spells, Ron tried the second door on the right.

What he guessed was Robertson's bedroom greeted him, and Ron was slightly surprised to see that it was marginally cleaner. The bed wasn't dirty, anyway, though it was unmade. The floor looked well traveled, but the tall dresser and nightstand both had a nice layer of dust on top of them.

It wasn't until the final door – the door on the left of the hallway – that Ron reached the jackpot. Beyond that door was a room that was clearly magically enlarged and so spotlessly clean that it erased all of Ron's doubts about Robertson's magical cleaning abilities.

It contained a vast, fully functional, and expertly stocked potions laboratory. Ron was almost blinded by the bright whiteness of everything it contained. Even the cauldrons on the center table were made of glass, not pewter or iron like at Hogwarts. Some were empty but others contained potions that were still brewing. Along every wall were white cabinets with glass doors which held every sort of potion ingredient imaginable, and some that Ron had never even heard of. Along every surface were parchments, scattered everywhere. A quick glance at a few told Ron that they were all most likely notes on each potion Robertson was making, had ever made, or ever planned to make, but he knew that he would have to look into every nook and cranny of this laboratory to see if he could find anything useful at all for Simon.

Sighing, he sat down on a stool in front of the table and commenced reviewing every last piece of parchment he could find.

* * *

Hermione landed in Harry's fireplace and stepped out, coughing and sputtering. She brushed a few soot spots off of her slacks before she realized that the house was totally quiet. She heard no footsteps, no water running, nothing. Checking her watch, she saw that it was only eight thirty and she presumed that Harry was probably still asleep.

Hermione debated for a moment on whether she should sit and wait for him to wake up, or go home and come back later, or to march upstairs immediately and wake him so she could unload all her worries on him.

It didn't take long for the last option to win out, but as Hermione walked up the stairs she tried to convince herself that she had decided on that choice because it was Harry's right to know everything about this mission as soon as possible, and not because she simply wanted someone to talk to and share her worry with…

Harry lived in a moderately sized home in a suburb of London. It was decorated as many bachelor's homes were: sparsely. Hermione wondered how long it would take once he and Ginny got married before Ginny put a woman's touch on everything in the house.

She arrived at Harry's bedroom door and was unsurprised to see that it stood open. As Harry lived alone and without any pets, there wasn't much reason to keep the door closed. She stepped quietly inside the room and to the side of Harry's queen sized bed. It was a four-poster, reminiscent of his days at Hogwarts, but it was easily the most extravagant thing in the room by a long shot. Harry was sleeping on his stomach with his arms poking out and resting above his head on the pillow.

He was snoring, but not nearly as obnoxiously as Ron did, Hermione noted.

"Harry…" she said quietly. Naturally, that achieved nothing.

"Harry," she said again, a bit louder this time. He still didn't move. She lightly touched his shoulder and pushed him a little.

"Harry…" she said, drawing his name out. He stirred, then quieted. Hermione huffed.

"Harry James Potter!" she snipped sharply, and Harry's eyes shot open. In the span of close to two seconds, he gasped, jerked in the bed, squirmed around, and reached for his wand on the bedside table before he realized that it was Hermione standing over him.

She handed him his glasses and he put them on, panting.

"Jesus, Hermione, what in the bloody hell…" he grumbled, then glanced at his bedside clock. "Shouldn't you be at work?" he asked.

"I was," she answered. "That's why I'm here."

"And that's supposed to mean…?"

Hermione sighed.

"Just get up and get some clothes on. I'll be in the kitchen making tea," she said, and walked back downstairs and to the kitchen. With a few flicks of her wand there was a fire under the tea kettle and two tea cups with tea bags in them waiting on the table.

Harry tromped down the stairs just as the kettle was whistling. Hermione poured the boiling water into both of their cups as he sat down. His hair was still mussed from the bed – though, Hermione supposed, it always looked like that – and he was wearing a plain pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. His feet were bare and his eyes were a bit red from tiredness.

"I apologize for coming over unannounced and waking you," she said as she sat down.

"S'okay," said Harry, not looking at her and stirring his tea. "Isn't Simon wondering where you are?" he asked.

"Simon… gave me the day off today," she explained. Harry looked up at her curiously.

"That's unusual."

"Yes, well, it came with the clause of coming here and briefing you on what Ron and I were told this morning when we arrived at work."

Harry regarded her curiously. "Does this have to do with that Robertson guy I was helping you guys research?"

She sighed heavily.

"Yes, Robertson has _everything_ to do with this…"

"Go on…"

"You saw the article in the paper, I'm sure, that said he'd been sighted?"

Harry nodded.

"Yes, well… apparently the Ministry managed to capture him."

"Oh?" Harry asked curiously. Hermione nodded. "What did they find out in his questioning?" he asked.

"Unfortunately... not much," she admitted. "It seems that he modified his own memories, and then broke his wand and removed the core so that they can't be recovered."

"So he knew they were coming for him, then?" Harry said.

"Yes. It also appears that his memory job was botched so badly that he's caused himself to go insane… They said they found him sitting on a deserted street corner muttering to himself."

"Poor bloke," said Harry.

"What they _did_ find out," Hermione pressed on, "is where he was living – in Munich, Germany – and that he was back into making and selling illegal potions and that he had a laundry list of clients he was going to sell to."

"Where's the list?" Harry asked.

"They're not sure," Hermione said. "He didn't have it in his possession so they think it's at his apartment." She sighed. "This morning they sent Ron to go look for it."

Harry's eyebrows raised.

"Ron is also charged with the responsibility to stay there as long as necessary – perhaps even months – to arrest everyone on the list in secret in the guise of Robertson. No one knows he's been caught. As far as the rest of the world knows, he's still at large. The Ministry wants his clients to play right into their hands."

Harry just stared.

"Simon has asked me to brief you on Ron's mission and to recruit you as his temporary full-time replacement until he returns, whenever that may be. He's not allowed to come home at all while he's on this mission."

Harry let out a long breath.

"That's great for Ron, that's for sure, but… how are you taking that?" he asked. Hermione bit her lip before replying.

"I'm fine. We've all been through worse, after all…" she said. Harry wasn't convinced, but let it drop.

"I'm here if you need me, and of course I'll come in as Ron's replacement," he assured her. She smiled.

"Thanks, Harry."

"I'm guessing all of this is confidential? I mean, I know Ginny and Mrs Weasley at the very least are going to want to know where Ron is…"

Hermione paused.

"Yes, it's all confidential. We can just tell them that he's been called away on a mission for an undetermined period of time and that all of the details are classified."

"Mrs Weasley is not going to like that," Harry noted.

"No, she's not, but I'm not losing my job just to make her feel better," Hermione said.

"I know. I wouldn't either. Ginny will probably take it better," Harry said. "Maybe we should go tell Ginny and then have her tell her mother herself?"

Hermione giggled. "Nice idea, but that's not very fair to Ginny."

"Better her than you," Harry said, smiling.

"That's no way to talk about your fiancée!" Hermione scolded him.

"Hey, it's her mother not yours," Harry reasoned.

"Well, I'm all for the idea of going to tell Ginny, but how about we let _her_ decide who tells her mother?"

"All right by me," said Harry. He glanced at the clock above the stove. "It's only nine, George's shop doesn't open until ten. Why don't we go out and grab some breakfast at the Three Broomsticks before we stop by to see her?"

"Sounds lovely as long as you're buying," she said coyly.

"I can manage that, I think," said Harry, standing. "Just let me go upstairs and put on something a little warmer…"

* * *

Ten minutes later they were sitting down in the Leaky Cauldron and the barman had walked up to them to take their breakfast orders.

"Start you both with some coffee?" he asked.

"Absolutely," said Harry, before Hermione could respond. Two mugs of coffee immediately appeared in front of them.

"And for breakfast this morning?"

"I'll have the oat—" Hermione began, but Harry cut her off.

"Two of the French toast platters, please. One for each of us. And bring extra syrup and sugar. Strawberries wouldn't hurt either."

The barman raised an eyebrow but chuckled as he walked away.

Harry beamed at Hermione. She glared in return.

"What on earth was that about?" she demanded.

"I absolutely refuse to pay for your blasted oatmeal and yogurt you insist on eating for breakfast. If I'm paying, you're eating something decent."

"Oatmeal and yogurt _is_ decent…"

"Decent for someone who is trying to lose fifty pounds, not you," Harry finished. "In case you haven't noticed, Hermione, you don't need to lose any weight. Live a little. Eat something ridiculously sweet, fattening, and awful for you."

Hermione scowled.

"Please? For me?" he asked. She wrinkled her nose at him.

"Fine. Just this once I will compromise my healthy eating habits for the sake of Harry Potter…"

"Thank you," he smiled. She continued scowling. "Oh come on, Hermione, it's not that bad… lighten up and at least give me a smile… you're so beautiful when you smile."

She couldn't help but to smile at that comment but she tried desperately to ignore the small flutter of butterflies it awoke in her stomach. Ron didn't compliment her appearance much… he said she looked nice every once in a while, and on rare occasions a stellar word like "gorgeous" would slip out, but other than that, he was very sparse in the adjective category.

"Are you saying I'm not beautiful the rest of the time?" she asked, smirking.

"Maybe," he jabbed. She glared at him. "I'll change my answer if you finish the whole plate of French toast," he said. She rolled her eyes.

"If I didn't know better I'd think you were twelve…" she said.

"I try," he smiled. "Ah, here we go…"

Hermione looked up to see the barman arriving with two identical steaming plates. He put one down in front of each of them.

"Enjoy!" he called as he walked away. Hermione stared down at the plate in front of her and felt her stomach gurgle at the prospect of having to polish it all off… On the plate lay three large and thick pieces of perfectly cooked French toast, drenched in syrup, topped with strawberries, and sprinkled all over with powdered sugar.

A glance at Harry showed he was positively beaming.

"You've got to be joking…" she muttered.

"I think you can do it," Harry said. "You can't say it doesn't look amazing…"

He was right. She definitely couldn't deny that it was probably the most delicious looking dish she'd seen in a very long time.

Half an hour and a very full stomach later proved that.

"I don't think I'm eating anything else for a week…" Hermione groaned.

"You'll change your mind on that, I'm sure," said Harry. Hermione glared at him.

"Well, I finished it. Every last bite. Going to change that answer from earlier?" she demanded. Harry smiled.

"Yes, Hermione. You are beautiful all the time, every last second of the day, even after you've been fighting an epic battle for my sake, or when you've first woken up in the morning, or when you're wearing a baggy night shirt…" He paused, then cast his eyes down at his own empty plate as he continued softly, mischievously, "or when you've been crying and I'm holding you in my arms…" – he saw her stiffen out of the corner of his eyes – "and especially that wonderful night together by the fire in the tent…" As he said this he glanced up and met her gaze. Neither of them said anything for a moment.

"Harry…"

"Yes, Hermione?" he answered quietly.

"I… we haven't… I mean… we never…"

"Talked about it?" Harry finished.

"Yes… exactly…" she said. "It was… almost like it never happened."

"I thought that's the way you'd want it," he admitted. "Especially after Ron came back."

"Yes, I did… I mean, no… I… Harry… you know I enjoyed it…"

"As did I."

"And I wanted it, I wanted it so desperately…"

"But you loved Ron."

"And you loved Ginny!" she hissed.

"I did. And still do." He paused. "Why did you want it so badly, Hermione? Why did you want us to share something so special? Not only sex, but each other's virginity?"

"Do you regret it?" she asked quietly, not meeting his eyes.

"No," he answered. "I don't."

"Neither do I," she whispered.

"But why, Hermione?" Harry asked again gently.

"I was lonely… I was scared… We lived in that tent never knowing if we were even going to see the next sunrise… I couldn't bear the idea of dying alone, feeling unwanted, never having had that physical pleasure…"

"Before we kissed you'd said to me that you didn't want to die alone. I will never forget that. Hearing you say that is what broke my resolve."

Hermione gazed at him in silence for a moment.

"It just felt… right… to do it. You were my best friend, I was closer to you even than Ron… it just seemed like we were supposed to share something that intimate…" she explained.

Harry looked at her calculatingly.

"Whether it was right or not, I'm not sure," Harry began, "but I can say with total assurance that I do not regret it and I am glad I could share something so special with you."

Hermione smiled a small smile at him. "You're always going to be my best friend, Harry."

"You, too," Harry replied. He looked up as the barman walked over.

"Everything was satisfactory, I trust?" he asked them.

"Excellent," Harry answered.

"Yes, it really was," Hermione agreed.

"Anything else I can get you?" the barman asked.

"Oh goodness, no, I couldn't possibly eat anything else!" Hermione exclaimed. "Just the check will be fine."

The barman smiled at her.

"Madam, everything for Harry Potter is always on the house," he said, and walked away.

Hermione stared after him, dumbfounded, before turning on Harry.

"You lying, cheating, dirtbag!" she cried. "You weren't paying at all! I could have ordered anything I liked!"

Harry was beaming.

"Are you really going to get mad at me for giving you the most delectable thing you've eaten in a month?"

Hermione spluttered for a moment before giving in.

"I suppose not…"

"I thought so," Harry said. He glanced at his watch. "It's a bit past ten. Care to head over to see Ginny?"

"Might as well," Hermione replied. "No use putting off the inevitable."

"I'll let you do the talking," Harry said. "I don't want to reveal anything I shouldn't."

"Thanks," Hermione said. As they stood up and went out the back door and through the entrance to Diagon Alley, Hermione found herself wondering about Ron and what he had found when he got to Robertson's flat. She briefly wondered if he'd be able to manage everything on his own… but then, of course he could. If Simon had faith in his abilities, why shouldn't she? Of course, she couldn't deny that things would be going a lot faster if he'd sent them _both_…

She mentally shook herself. Simon was head of the Auror office and his orders were law. There was no use trying to justify good reasons to herself why she should be there with Ron.

She just plain missed him. Already. Simple as that.


	5. Quidditch Practice

Author's Note: Deeply apologize that this one took me a few days. I've been a bit busy at work and then last night I had to deal with a breakup with my boyfriend. Quite a tragedy considering we were so much like Hermione and Ron. Not only did we act just like them but we look like them too. My hair is wavy and dark blonde and he's a tall, gangly ginger. Go figure. Anyhow, here's chapter five. Again, I apologize for the delay. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Five

Quidditch Practice

* * *

"My little brother is doing what…?" George asked incredulously.

Hermione sighed.

"He's been called away on a mission—"

"Like an Auror mission?" George interuppted.

"Yes, an Auror mission."

"For what?"

"I'm sorry, George, but that's classified. Can I please talk to Ginny, now?" Hermione pleaded. When they'd arrived George had said that she'd gone straight to the backroom to inventory the new Geyser Ink bottles.

George stared at her for a moment.

"Why didn't they send you?" he asked. "I mean, no offense to Ron or anything but… you're a lot more intelligent than he is…"

"Which is why I have to stay behind and hold down the office and take care of the paperwork that he hates," Hermione quipped. "Harry will be stepping into the office in his place to assist me."

"Well congratulations to you, mate!" George said. "How long you in for?"

"Until Ron gets back," Harry answered.

"And that is…?"

Harry glanced at Hermione. "We… honestly have no idea," Harry answered.

George furrowed his brow. "Is that just part of the classified information or do you really have no idea?"

"We honestly have no guess whatsoever at when he will return, but even if we did know and it were just classified, I would still tell you that," Hermione said. "_Please_ can I tell Ginny now?"

"All right, go ahead… straight to the back and to the left," he said, pointing.

"Thank you," said Harry and Hermione together, and they walked to the backroom where they found Ginny kneeling on the floor, tapping small boxes with her wand. As she tapped each one, a tally appeared on the parchment next to her.

She looked up when she heard them.

"Harry! Hermione!" she said, standing and smiling. "What are you doing here?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "We have… news… for you."

Ginny's smile faded. "What's wrong?"

"It's about Ron…"

"Ron? Is he all right? Is he hurt? Did he die? What's going on?" she babbled. Hermione put her hands on Ginny's shoulders.

"Calm down, he's fine," Hermione assured her. She took a deep breath, then continued. "This morning, Ron was asked to take on a mission for our Auror team. All the details are classified, and we aren't sure when he will return, but it could be weeks or even months from now."

Ginny stared.

"He's gone? Where is he? Why didn't he tell me?"

"I can't tell you where he is, Ginny, I'm sorry. He didn't tell you because we both only found out just this morning… we were briefed and then he was told to leave immediately and instructed to not come home at all while he's gone."

Ginny bit her lip. "Is he… in danger… at all? I mean, is there a really strong possibility he'll… that he'll die or something?"

Hermione sighed. "I don't know, Ginny. I really think he will be fine, but there is always a risk with any Auror mission…"

"Will I be able to write to him?"

"I think so, Gin, but I'd wait to see if you get a letter from him first, just in case."

"Right," she agreed. She sighed. "It just seems really unfair. I mean, he might even be gone over Christmas, it's only three weeks away…"

Hermione swallowed. She hadn't thought about that. It would be their first Christmas together as an engaged couple. She took a deep breath, fortifying her mental strongholds as she did.

"I know, Ginny. I know. It's awful, it really is, but there's no arguing with a direct order from the Head of the Auror Office."

"No, I suppose there isn't," she agreed.

"You also won't be seeing as much of me giving you surprise visits while you're here," Harry interjected. Ginny looked at him curiously. "Since I'm used to coming in and being a back up for Ron and Hermione, I've been asked to step in as Ron's full-time replacement temporarily while he's gone."

Ginny smiled. "That's not necessarily a bad thing. It'll keep you from being bored at home."

"We'll see," Harry replied, but he smiled in return.

* * *

Ron had never seen so many illegal potions recipes gathered in one place. None of them were anything they had learned to brew in school. The worst potion he had ever seen in a schoolbook was Living Death, and even then all it did was put the drinker into an extreme sleep from whence they couldn't be woken without the antidote. Some of the potion recipes he found he had heard about, either from outside knowledge or reviewing previous reports of Robertson's first arrest. Others he had never heard of and might have even been new creations of Robertson's. Of particular interest to Ron was a recipe he had found for an extremely potent poison. A cupful would kill you instantly, but a single drop would kill you slowly and painfully. Ron had been poisoned before thanks to the planted bottle of mead from Slughorn's office and it hadn't been a pleasant experience… but what was truly unsettling about this poison that Robertson had created was that there was no antidote, and he'd created it that way on purpose.

Ron shuddered and continued looking through the parchments. He had been at it for several hours and had found nothing beyond copious amounts of notes on various potions. He was organizing them into piles as he found them: "meant to kill," "meant to help," "meant for others." After he discovered the incurable poison, he started a new pile: "no antidote."

Currently on top of the "meant to kill" pile was a potion that drove the drinker to a point of insanity so far unreachable by reason that they killed themselves by the closest means available.

Gracing the "meant to help" pile was a potion which made the drinker absolutely fearless. Ron had heard of this one before… Ferocitas. It seemed harmless, but its effects were addictive and the fearlessness it gave you only lasted for a day. The withdraw symptoms were so severe – the drinker became introverted to the point of extreme and unable to do any of their daily functions – that they were forced to continue taking the potion in order to live a normal life. Potions dealers of course used this to their advantage because it meant their clients would continue coming back to them for the potion and therefore heavily promoted the potion's wonderful effects while leaving its high addictiveness out.

On the "meant for others" pile was a potion that particularly worried Ron. It was another of Robertson's own creations, though this one had an antidote, thank goodness. Robertson had called it "Subigo" but Ron referred to it in his own mind as a liquid Imperius curse. After the drinker took the potion, the first person they saw became, essentially, their master. Ideally, of course, the giver would want that first person to be themselves. Once the drinker had taken the potion, they were overcome with devotion so devout to the giver that they did absolutely anything they asked. The most frightening part was that the effects of the potion never wore off – instead they got stronger – until the antidote was given. This gave a clear advantage for this potion over the Imperius curse, as in order for the Imperius curse to work the caster of the spell had to be conscious and actively focusing on the commands being given. Ron had winced in disgust at Robertson's notes at the bottom of the page that had dictated the potion's clear usefulness for creating a personal sex slave.

Once Ron had gone through all the potion recipes, he waved his wand over each pile and they all were bound with twine. He set them to the side of the lab, then sighed and looked around slowly.

He _had_ to find the list of names…

* * *

"You're sure Simon told you that you had the _entire_ day off?" Harry asked Hermione as they walked out of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"Yes, the whole day," Hermione affirmed.

"And I don't have to come in until you come in tomorrow?"

"Correct."

"What in the world are you going to do with yourself with an entire free day off of work?" Harry asked her, smirking.

"I have absolutely no idea," Hermione admitted. "I don't know how you do it, sitting about the house all day doing nothing…"

"I do plenty," Harry countered. "A lot of volunteer work and such."

"I mean when you're not doing all of that," Hermione said impatiently. "Surely there are days when you get up and have nothing at all to do…"

"Those tend to be the days when you and Ron ask me to come in and help," Harry said.

"Well, supposing I hadn't arrived and turned your day upside down, what would you have done today?" she asked him.

"It's Wednesday," he began, "so I would be heading out around noon to coach a practice of London's junior Quidditch league."

"Oh, that's right, they do meet on Wednesdays, don't they?"

"Want to come along?" Harry asked her, smiling. "They're really fun to watch."

Hermione had never been overtly interested in Quidditch, but as she had nothing else to do with her day, she figured it couldn't hurt.

"Might as well," she replied, smiling back at him. "When's practice?"

Harry checked his watch. "In about an hour at 11:30, but we can head over early."

"Where is it, exactly?"

"An abandoned field outside the suburbs. All charmed against muggles, of course," he added. "They've all seemed to work so far."

"I'm impressed," Hermione said.

"I learned from the best," he replied. "Shall we?" he offered her his hand.

"Certainly," she replied, gripping his hand firmly. A moment later they were standing in the middle of a small Quidditch field – probably about half the standard size, maybe a little larger. On either end stood the standard three goal posts and there were small sets of bleachers on both sides.

"It's not much, I set it all up myself when I agreed to coach the league," Harry said sheepishly.

"Harry, it's absolutely adorable!" Hermione said. "They probably think that playing here is the most wonderful thing… to them it's probably just like playing for a real Quidditch league!"

Harry smiled. "I did try to make it nice for them… they're ages seven to ten so they're easily impressed."

"What's the league name, again?"

"Potter's Punchers," Harry said. Hermione giggled. "I take no blame, they came up with it themselves and wouldn't hear of anything else," he defended.

"I think it's cute," Hermione said, still giggling.

"We'll see what you think after you meet them," said Harry. "They're a rowdy bunch."

"All boys?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, all boys. Seven year old girls seem to be far more interested in having tea parties," Harry explained. Hermione smiled.

"I never really understood tea parties when I was younger," Hermione said. "I just couldn't see the point in sitting about a table with your most cherished stuffed animals and pretending to talk to them and then imagining what they would say back."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised."

"Yes, well, I really rather thought that my time was much better spent in—"

"—the library?" Harry finished.

"How did you ever guess?" Hermione asked, laughing. "Yes, my mother would take me there every day after school… I started out in the children's section but after third grade I started wandering around in the nonfiction section, reading up on anything I could find. My mother actually had to impose a three-book-limit every day."

Harry just shook his head.

"To this day, I am so glad Ron and I decided to be noble and save you from that damn troll. If we hadn't you'd probably never have given us the time of day and we'd both be rotting in the ground."

"If you hadn't saved me, the troll may have killed me anyway," Hermione reminded him.

"Ah, yes, right," Harry said. "Either way, your intelligence is the reason we're both alive right now."

"Let's hope Ron is still alive after this mission…" Hermione said quietly. Harry put his arm around her, then pulled her into a hug.

"He's going to be fine, Hermione," he promised her. "He knows what he's doing; Simon wouldn't have sent him if he didn't."

"I keep trying to tell myself that…"

Harry pulled away and held her shoulders, looking into her eyes.

"Worry never solved anyone's problems. Try and enjoy yourself. I guarantee these kids will give you a laugh."

She gave him a small smile. "All right, Harry. I promise I'll try."

Trying, as it turned out, wasn't even necessary. An hour later she was sitting on the bleachers watching a small gaggle of young boys – there were about fifteen of them - surround Harry and the equipment case at his side that he'd conjured up from his house. They were all carrying broomsticks and were dressed in small red robes with "Potter's Punchers" emblazoned on the back in black. Some of them had robes that were a little too big and they kept tripping over them as they all ran about talking and yelling and laughing before Harry conjured a whistle and blew into it. All the boys immediately stood at attention.

"Right, so: I know it's cold, so I'm going to try to keep practice short today…"

There was a resounding groan from the crowd of boys.

"We don't mind it!" one called.

"Yeah, we're tough, we can take it!" cried another. Hermione was holding in fits of laughter.

"Regardless, I'm keeping an eye on all of you. Your mothers will have my head if I send you all home with hypothermia."

"But we have a game this Saturday!"

"It's our last one of the year before Christmas!"

Harry sighed. "Oh, right, how could I possibly have forgotten…" he said slyly. "I'll have to work you all _extra_ hard today!"

Being boys, they cheered at this and assured Harry that they were up to the challenge.

"All right, then! And I'll need you to perform absolutely perfectly, too, because for those of you who haven't noticed, we have a guest watching us today…" he said, and pointed to Hermione on the bleachers. She waved, beaming.

"Is she your _girlfriend_?" one asked disdainfully. Harry chuckled.

"No, she's a very good friend of mine. I'm sure you've heard of Hermione Granger?"

A few of them nodded eagerly.

"She helped you defeat the Dark Lord didn't she?" one asked excitedly. "You were in there and fighting and banging him up and she came in and was like _swoosh_ and _whoosh _and _bam_!" he said, making overly exaggerated motions with his arms as if he were wielding two wands.

Harry and Hermione both laughed.

"Sure, it probably went down something like that…" Harry said. "But enough talk! We have to practice!"

They boys all stood at attention again.

"Hmm… let's see. Justin, George, Paulie, Thomas, Jonathan, Patrick, and Chris, you'll take this side of the field…" Half of the boys scrambled to one side. "And… Andrew, Jeff, Brian, Dougie, Fred, Shawn, and Terry, you'll be on this side." The other half ran to the other side. "You all know your positions; go ahead and mount your brooms and get in the air."

Hermione watched as the boys slowly rose up, some more awkwardly than others, to about ten feet off the ground. She saw that two boys on each side both had beater's bats and she realized they had probably brought them with them.

"Seekers, I'm releasing the snitch!" he called. The two boys who had risen highest both stared down at Harry as he opened the case and the small golden snitch flew out. "Beaters, here come the bludgers!" he yelled, and he released the bludgers from their chains. They soared out of the case and the beaters immediately took off after them. "Chasers, I'm going to throw up the Quaffle, come to center field and Keepers go to the goalposts!" he yelled, and the four remaining boys on either side took their places. Harry picked up the Quaffle out of the chest and held it in the air. "Ready! Three… two… one… Start!" he called, and tossed the Quaffle in the air and quickly dashed out of the way.

Hermione didn't know a lot about Quidditch, but she definitely knew that these boys were very well versed in rules and technique. They all were clearly very good and knew what they were doing. Harry had taught them well. He stood on the sidelines, calling out scores and pointers as they flew around the field. For just a few hours, Hermione was able to forget her worries and enjoy herself as she watched the boys fly. For a few hours, she was completely happy.


	6. Munich

Author's Note:

_**PLEASE READ THE BLOG!**_

**It's spicysugar368 [dot] tumblr [dot] com**

It will sort of kind of explain why this took so long to update. And include a pretty hefty apology. Please check back on the blog for regular updates.

* * *

**Chapter Six**

_Munich_

* * *

Ron decided that Robertson had clearly not been in his apartment when he realized that the Ministry was coming to capture him. There was too much information clear out in the open and the lab was fully functional with all the potions still either brewing or stored. If he'd been there, he would have destroyed or hidden everything.

Though Ron had not found an actual list of names, he'd hit the jackpot when he started looking in the cabinets beneath the counters. In every cabinet were vials, beakers, and flasks of finished potions, and each was labeled with a the name of the potion, the name of the client, the date & time he was to meet them, where he was to meet them, and how much the client owed him for it. He was so excited about this discovery that he didn't even mind – at first – writing down all the information he found on a piece of parchment. On a separate piece of parchment he was recording all the names that were due to receive their potions within the next few days. So far he'd found about five for the next week or so, but he got worried when he saw one that was for that day.

_Delector – Jacob Grindle – 8 December – 2330 – Herz des Drachen – 50.G_

Ron read the small vial and then checked his watch. It was noon right now… no, scratch that, Germany was an hour ahead of England, it was one o'clock. He had ten and a half hours before Jacob Grindle would be skulking in a back alleyway behind _Herz des Drachen_ waiting for Robertson. If Grindle had to leave empty handed it would stir suspicion and that was the last thing Ron needed.

Ron studied the small parchment attached to the vial again. _Delector_… Ron had heard of it. It made the drinker exceedingly witty and charming for 24 hours – so charming that he became practically irresistible. It was often used by socially awkward wizards looking to get laid. It was not nearly as addictive as Ferocitas – though the general idea of being witty and charming was certainly desirable – but Delector took a week off the end of your life every time you took it. The small vial held no more than a few milliliters of the potion and Grindle was willing to shell out fifty galleons for it. It clearly worked, and worked well… but did Grindle know he was shortening his life by taking it?

_Herz des Drachen_… Heart of the Dragon… it sounded like a pub to Ron, but where was it? How could he find it? And was it a muggle pub or a hidden wizard pub?

Ron felt a terrible sinking feeling as he realized how very unprepared he was for this mission.

_Your job resides on this. You will lose your job if you don't figure this out_, he chided himself. _Suck it up and think. What would Hermione do?_

He closed his eyes, took a deep calming breath, then opened his eyes again and looked down at the small parchment. He bit his tongue in frustration when he realized that Hermione would probably go to the library to seek out information, but he didn't know where one of those was, either.

This would be a lot easier if he were allowed to apparate back to the office and just ask… He was tempted to do it anyway, but then reminded himself that he'd probably lose his job. Resigning himself, he conjured another piece of blank parchment and began writing a letter to Simon when he realized he didn't have an owl to send it with.

Ron pounded the table in frustration. How the _hell_ was he supposed to do this?

Fresh air. That's what he needed. He'd been in the lab with the potion fumes for a little too long, he decided. He took yet another deep breath and stalked out of the potions lab, shutting the door behind him and heading for the supposed balcony door that was covered in the moth-eaten tapestry curtains. He was so focused on getting to the door that he didn't even realize the _tap-tap-tap-tap _sound coming from it until he pulled back the curtain, shrouding him in a cloud of dust but also revealing an impatient brown barn owl tapping its beak on the glass. Attached to its claw was a rather hefty looking package.

Ron felt his stomach slowly materialize again when he realized this was probably an owl from Simon that contained the polyjuice potion he was to be taking and – hopefully – further instructions. He was just about to open the door when Hermione's doubting voice appeared in the back of his head.

_What if it's a trap? A trick? You can't just blindly accept anything that comes to you, especially not in the house of a wizard wanted for potion dealing and suspected of murder!_

His newly reappeared stomach did a nervous lurch, but then he heard Harry's voice.

_Well, there's only one way to find out, isn't there? You can't just leave an owl intending to deliver a package to you outside the door, it won't leave until you take it, anyway…_

Ron desperately wished they were there with him so he could hear their actual voices giving him real advice instead of simply what he imagined they would say. He had never undertaken something like this without their help and support. This was a huge project and a ridiculously important mission and it all rested on Ron's shoulders to make sure it was completed properly.

Ron recalled the day of his first Quidditch match as Keeper and realized that he desperately wished for those fleeting nerves over these much heavier and despairing ones.

Ron took a deep breath as he made up his mind to agree with the mental voice of Harry. He slowly opened the door and the owl flew in and landed on the shabby coffee table. The package was large, so the owl was forced to perch on top of it.

"_Revelio_," Ron said quietly, pointing his wand at the box. There was no change, and Ron breathed a sigh of relief as he realized it didn't contain some kind of curse.

"Are you willing to stick around, mate?" he asked the owl as he untied the package. "I might need to send a letter back."

The owl hooted softly and Ron decided that meant yes.

"Come on," Ron said, and held out his arm once he had released the owl from the twine fastening the box to its claw. The owl hopped onto his arm and Ron winced a little as it dug its talons into his robes.

"Easy, now," he muttered, but used his free hand to grab his wand and use a few spells to unwrap and open the box. Ron peered inside, the owl still sitting on his arm, and pulled out a large beaker full of a brown, bubbling muck that he recognized very clearly as polyjuice potion. His stomach lurched in distaste but he put the beaker aside and pulled out two parchments. The first was a letter from Simon.

_Weasley,_

_The owl's name is Michelo; he is yours to use for the duration of this mission. You may send personal letters as long as they are kept to a minimum and do not interfere with the flow of official communication between you and I._

_I trust that you have already begun scouring the flat. Please report back to me anything and everything you find. I will pass any relevant information along to Granger. The physical address for Robertson's flat is 1209 Baumkhrone Ast, Unit 3A, Munich, Germany. Chances are you'll need to remember that._

_We have been able to glean a few more bits of information from Robertson this morning, namely the names of places it seems that he regularly met clients. I've sent a map of all the places he mentioned in his delusional state, but there's no guarantee that this is everything. Luckily, all the places are right there in Munich. Some of them are pretty shady, so watch your back._

_After each successful arrest please send an owl dictating that it was completed back to me and I will get Granger working on the Fidelius letters for each one._

_If you have any questions, send them to me via Michelo. He is an extremely strong and fast owl; I am sure he will not disappoint._

_Good luck,_

_Gregory Simon_

_Head of Auror Department_

_British Ministry of Magic_

"Well, Michelo, looks like we're going to become good friends," Ron said to the owl. It hooted and Ron smiled, then looked at the other parchment. As Simon had dictated, it was a map of Munich. It was very detailed and the writing was small and cramped, but Ron could make out the names of certain buildings written in glittering ink. These, he assumed, were Robertson's favorite haunts. Squinting, he looked carefully for _Herz des Drachen_ and found it on the edge of the map on the outskirts of the city.

"That answers that question," Ron muttered, and tucked the map into his pocket. He looked uncertainly at Michelo. "I have a few more things to take care of before I send you off again…" he said, and Michelo took off from his arm and landed on the back of the couch. The owl hooted quietly and tucked his head under his wing.

"That works," Ron said. "You probably need a nap anyway, I bet you're tired…"

Michelo stayed silent and Ron took that as his cue to get back in the lab and finish recording the names.

It took him about another hour, but he finally had them all recorded. It seemed that Robertson had dealings scheduled with clients for another five weeks. He hadn't found any dates beyond 15 January. He had separated them into two lists: one was the list of clients Robertson was scheduled to meet in the next seven days (there were ten, including Grindle this evening) and the other was the list of clients for the remaining weeks following, from 15 December to 15 January. (There were about forty more.) He had gone back through both lists and re-written them in order of the date he was to meet each buyer.

He quickly penned a letter to Simon dictating what he had found and that he was going to carry out the arrest for Grindle that evening and would continue to do so with each following buyer until he received further instruction. He folded and sealed everything before walking back out to the living room, where Michelo still slept. Ron almost felt bad for waking him, but he knew that he had to get these lists out immediately.

"Michelo," Ron said tentatively. The owl peeked his head out from under his wing, then hooted and ruffled his feathers. "I need you to get these back to Gregory Simon as quickly as possible," he explained. The owl flew across the room and Ron held out his arm just in time for Michelo to perch on it. He looked at Ron expectantly.

"They're all yours," Ron said, and held up the letters. Michelo took them in his beak as Ron walked over to the sliding door and opened it. Michelo flew out without hesitation and it did not take long for him to disappear into the horizon. Ron sighed and looked around the dirty room. Checking his watch (which he had reset when he recalled the time change), he realized it was only two thirty and he had a lot of time to kill before he headed out to arrest Grindle.

Ron had never been very good at cleaning spells, but he figured it couldn't hurt to give it a try… he couldn't possibly make the disgusting flat any worse than it already was.

An hour and what felt like a million _Scourigifys_ later, the apartment was at least habitable.

Ron collapsed on the bed and surveyed his work in the bedroom, which he had done last. There was no more dust and the mold that had been growing around the baseboards was gone, so it definitely smelled a lot better. The worst part for Ron had been finding a cluster of what he knew to be spider's eggs in the corner. After getting over his miniature panic attack at seeing them, he used a vanishing spell on them and then _scourigified_ that particular corner probably a few more times than necessary.

While he was lying down on the bed, he began to wonder why Robertson hadn't been found sooner. He didn't seem to have any safeguards on the place at all and absolutely everything was left out in the open or was easy to find. Curious, Ron decided to see perhaps what sorts of charms and defenses Robertson had placed on the door. He got up off the bed and made his way to the front door, hesitating before touching the door handle. Robertson wouldn't have cast charms on the inside, would he? He'd never have been able to leave…

Deciding not to chance it, Ron cast a _revelio_ spell on the door. It showed nothing, so Ron opened it, noting the black "3A" painted on the door like Simon had written in his letter, and looked out at the landing, checking to make sure no one was around before he stepped out holding his wand. He looked down over the rail to check to see if anyone was coming up the stairs as he closed the door behind him. Seeing no one, he breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to face the door.

It was gone.

Ron looked around the landing frantically. 3B, 3C, and 3D were all there but there was no door for 3A.

Panicking, he felt at the wall next to 3B's door, as if he'd be able to locate some magical button that would bring the door back. Naturally finding nothing, he stood back and stared at the spot where 3A's door had been.

Wait a moment…

Had Robertson had the flat under a Fidelius charm?

There was only one way to find out, really…

Ron mentally went back through the letter Simon had sent him, trying to remember the exact address.

_1209 Baumkhrone Ast, Unit 3A, Munich, Germany… _Ron thought, focusing all his energy on those words.

The door slowly materialized before him. He went for the door handle before remembering the reason he had come out there in the first place and cast another _revelio _spell. The door glowed blue, revealing the Fidelius charm and nothing else. Ron furrowed his brow. Even the Fidelius charm couldn't be trusted entirely – Harry's parents were proof. You never knew if your Secret-Keeper would betray you. Why did Robertson put all his faith in just the Fidelius?

Speaking of which, Ron thought, as he entered the flat again. Who had been Robertson's Secret-Keeper anyway? Simon had clearly gotten the actual address out of Robertson, making him also a Secret-Keeper… and now, by association, Ron was a Secret-Keeper as well. Had the identity of the Secret-Keeper been one of the memories Robertson had erased? Or did Simon know who it was and just wasn't telling Ron?

* * *

Hours passed and soon Ron realized that the sky had been dark for quite a while. He checked his watch and found that it was eleven o'clock. Wandering the streets of Munich had distracted him a fair bit while it was still light out. He'd located the _Herz des Drachen_ in his excursion, but decided that he would apparate there when it came time to arrest Grindle. The back alley behind it was dank and dark enough that Ron was sure no one would be there to witness him appearing out of thin air, besides perhaps Grindle, who would of course be expecting him.

Ron took a deep, calming breath as he realized his nerves were starting to kick in. He'd never arrested someone before. Sure, he'd done loads of other ridiculously dangerous and risky things, but never an official arrest for the Ministry of Magic as an undercover Auror disguised as an illegal potions dealer and suspected murderer…

He shook himself a little, then retrieved the letter that Michelo had brought back to him after he'd sent Simon the new information he had gleaned. Simon hadn't seemed surprised that Ron would be required to make an arrest so soon – but then again, that could have just been the insensitivity of ink on parchment – and had given Ron clear instructions on what he was to do.

Maintaining his cover was absolutely paramount. The wizard he was arresting could absolutely not suspect he was anyone but Joshua Robertson, because Ron would need the wizard's total trust. He would wait for the wizard to come to him and let him prove that he was really who Ron wanted by asking simple questions. Ron would then reveal the potion to the wizard and ask for the money before handing over the potion. Everything up to that point was simple.

The handing over of the money was where it got tricky. Ideally, when the wizard went to give Ron the money, their hands would touch. Ron would take the opportunity to latch onto the wizard – preferably grabbing his wrist – and immediately apparate into a room in the Department of Mysteries that Simon had detailed to him in the letter. There would be a team of interrogators there who would bind and silence the arrested wizard as soon as Ron appeared with him. Ron was to ensure that the captured wizard was properly detained and then immediately apparate back to his flat. While he was there, he was to make no attempt to leave the Department of Mysteries and travel elsewhere in the ministry or to try to communicate with anyone else in the Ministry itself. Simon had also made it perfectly clear that no one, not even Hermione, knew that Ron would be making these regular trips back into the Ministry and he was to make sure it stayed that way. Ron was sure Hermione could figure that part out on her own, but that was a moot point.

It all seemed easy enough on paper, but Ron had thought of a few things that could go wrong… what if the wizard didn't show, or did show but didn't have money to hand over? What if the wizard caught onto it and refused to touch Ron in any way or to even come near him? Ron had mulled these thoughts over in his head and realized that in some cases it might come to an all-out duel in the middle of the streets of Munich. His stomach gave a violent twist as he realized all the muggle memories he would have to modify…

He shivered and cracked his neck, looking across the room at Michelo, who had his head tucked under his wing while perched on top of the ancient television set. Poor thing was probably dead tired, Ron thought. It had flown from England to Germany, back to England, and then back to Germany again, all in the span of a few hours.

"Bloody strong bird, that's for sure," Ron muttered to himself. Michelo ruffled his feathers as if he'd heard Ron, but slept on. Another look at his watch told Ron it was fifteen past eleven. Pulling back the moth-eaten tapestry curtains covering the sliding door to the balcony, he looked out at the lights of the city. It was a fiery web of electricity, something he still wasn't quite used to. Harry and Hermione had both tried to explain it to him before but he'd never really gotten it.

Oxygen filled his lungs to the brim as he took a long and slow deep breath. There was no point in putting it off anymore, he decided. Last thing he needed was to show up late and have Grindle waiting on him. He let the curtains fall back in place and walked back to the potions lab, where he'd left the polyjuice potion in a conspicuous place and far apart from any of the other potions Robertson had left brewing. Wrinkling his nose at the bubbling mess, he closed his eyes and took a swig of it.

Immediately the sickening sensation hit him and he slammed the beaker back on the counter so he didn't drop it. His bones felt like they were being stretched on a rack and he realized he was growing taller. Muscles were sprouting all over his body… his arms, his pecs, his abs… he felt his face bubbling and contorting as the features changed to accommodate Robertson's. The back of his neck tickled and he reached back and realized his hair was growing longer…

Then, as quickly as it had started, it stopped. Ron clutched the countertop, panting, and gasped when he saw his hands.

They were tan and rugged, to be sure, but they were almost entirely covered in scars. Scratches, cuts, gashes, even burns had mutilated Robertson's hands. Ron stood up straight and examined them, turning them over in front of his eyes. Working with dangerous potions had its risks, he supposed… He glanced down at himself and realized his robes were now a little too short, especially in the arms. Ron guessed he had gained only a couple of inches in height, but he should still probably change into some of Robertson's clothes…

He checked his watch and saw it was 11:20. He still had a few minutes. He strode briskly into Robertson's bedroom and opened the top drawer of the tall dresser. Socks and boxers greeted him. Nice, but not necessary at the moment… The next drawer held hooded sweatshirts in various muted colors. Useful, Ron decided, and tossed a deep green on behind him on the bed. The next drawer contained T-shirts and undershirts. A white one was on top so Ron tossed that onto the bed, too. Fortunately the second drawer from the bottom was filled with jeans. Ron snatched a pair out and quickly rid himself of his own clothes and robes and exchanged them for Robertson's. He realized when he tried to put his boots back on that Roberton's feet were a size or two bigger than his and cursed, whipping around toward the closet and throwing open the door. Hanging up were a few pairs of slacks, some dress shirts, and a blazer or two, but Ron was concerned with the floor, where there lay two pairs of boots, a ratty pair of trainers and a new pair, and a pair of black dress shoes. He grabbed the more distressed looking pair of trainers and shoved his feet into them, tying the laces quickly.

He checked his watch. It was 11:25.

He swore again and dashed out to the living room, ensuring he had his wand on him before grabbing the small vial labeled with Grindle's name off the coffee table and apparating out of the flat.


	7. M Colin Faire

**AN: Soooo... guess it's time for another apology. =[ I know it's taking me forever with this story, but I seriously have next to no spare time. I'm actually like super sick and had to stay home from work today, so that's how I was able to crank out this chapter. I may have to stay home from work again tomorrow, so you might be getting another chapter, but no promises! =[ Enjoy Chapter 7, loves.**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

_M. Colin Faire_

* * *

Ron opened his eyes and for a moment wondered if he'd perhaps gone blind, as all he could see was thick darkness. Once his eyes adjusted, however, he realized that he was, indeed, in the back alleyway behind _Herz des Drachen_. It was just as it had been earlier in the day – totally deserted. There was minimal light coming from the lights on the street at either end of the alley but the small light bulb in the fixture by the back door of the pub didn't seem to be working.

Ron debated for a moment if he should attempt to repair the bulb or not, but then decided that the cover of darkness would be helpful when he had to disapparate with Grindle.

Speaking of Grindle…

The doorknob on the rusty old door rattled and Ron stiffened. Both his hands were inside the large front pocket on the sweatshirt: one on his wand, the other on the small vial of Delector.

The door slowly creaked open and Ron heard the general raucous sound of the bar grow louder as a man's backside slowly appeared, followed by the rest of him. The man stumbled a bit when he finally eased himself out of the door – he clearly couldn't see well in the darkness. Ron's eyes had already adjusted, however, and he got a fairly decent look at the man and realized immediately why he resorted to using Delector to get a good lay… He was a few inches shy of six feet and all of two hundred fifty pounds… none of which was any sort of muscle at all. Though he looked to be in his thirties, he was balding and his ears stuck out from his head awkwardly.

Briefly Ron found himself wondering if buying the Delector potion would even help Grindle at all but he pushed the thought away when Grindle turned toward him and spoke nervously.

"Robertson?" he asked, his voice a little shaky. "Are you there?"

With the fear so evident in this man's voice Ron couldn't help but wonder how Robertson treated his clients.

"Only here if you've got my money, Grindle," Ron growled from where he stood. Grindle jumped and lit the end of his wand, which he was holding. Ron was momentarily blinded by the sudden appearance of the light but immediately jumped forward and snatched Grindle's wand away from him, muttering _Nox_ as he did to extinguish the light. He pocketed the wand. Grindle made a motion to grab it from him but apparently decided against it.

"You trying to get us bloody killed, you numbskull?" Ron jeered. Grindle shrunk down. "I don't know about you," Ron continued, "but I'd rather not have anyone know we're having this little transaction. Do you?"

He heard Grindle gulp. "No, I… I don't."

"Good," Ron said. He swallowed down the nerves in his stomach. This was it, this was the real test… He reached into the sweatshirt pocket and pulled out the small vial, making sure Grindle could see it.

"This what you're here for, Grindle?" he asked quietly. Grindle squinted at the bottle and nodded, looking at Ron hopefully.

"Fifty galleons," Ron barked. Grindle shuffled. "Come on!" Ron added. "Cough it up." He placed the vial back in the pocket and held out his hand, slowly removing his wand with his right hand and keeping it close to his side. Grindle didn't see this because he was digging in his pockets. Eventually, he emerged holding a small leather purse. It jingled as he pulled it out. Grindle held it out to Ron and Ron – ignoring the nerves bubbling every more persistently in his stomach – grabbed Grindle's wrist.

"You don't mind if I count it…" he jerked Grindle closer to him, making him stumble a little but ensuring his secure hold on him, "…do you?"

And in a flash, they were gone.

* * *

The ticking of the clock and the scratching of a quill on parchment was the only sound in the office. Hermione's breathing was silent as she focused on the notes she was taking. Simon had presented her first thing this morning with books that had extensive sections covering the complicated charms spells she needed to be learning as soon as possible to place on these letters. She gritted her teeth in frustration as she remembered the conversation she'd had with him not forty-five minutes previously. She'd just arrived and walked by Simon's door on her way to her office when he'd stepped out and practically accosted her…

"Weasley made his first arrest last night," he clipped.

Hermione stopped short.

"I'm sorry, I… what?" she queried.

"Weasley. He completed his first arrest last night. Jacob Grindle is now in our custody and undergoing questioning."

Hermione blinked, trying to process this news.

"I… well… I mean… that's wonderful…!" she stuttered.

Simon stared at her pointedly.

"Your fiancé is just fine, Granger," he said. "He performed admirably."

Hermione's visible relaxation in posture was clear evidence that this was what she'd really been wanting to hear.

"You know, of course, what this means…?" he prodded. Hermione gasped.

"The letters! The charms! I have to learn them! Quickly!" she blubbered.

Simon gave a half smile and held out his hand. Two books appeared in it on top of one another.

"Spend the day researching. I think we can possibly put off sending out Grindle's letter as late as tomorrow morning. We have officials in the German Ministry looking out for a missing person's report that might be filed for Grindle. I have no doubt that you will learn these spells quickly and easily Granger."

"Yes, sir," she said, taking the books from him. "Is there anything else?"

"Not at the moment. Hop to it," he said, and motioned his hand in the direction of her office.

"Yes, sir," she said again, but she was already walking briskly away, books in hand and mental gears whirring.

So here she sat, nearly an hour later, scribbling away while she speed-read the important paragraphs in the book. Theory was important, she knew, but actual practice was imperative to truly know how to perform the spell…

She was interrupted by the sound of the office door opening. A quick glance at the clock on the wall showed her it was 8:35. Her back was to him, but she knew who it was.

"You're late," she quipped.

"No kidding," Harry grumbled, flopping down in the chair at Ron's desk. He leaned back and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. "I'm not used to being needed this way, and I'm definitely not used to getting up so bloody early…"

Hermione huffed but said nothing.

Harry opened his eyes and looked over at her, without moving from his relaxed position.

"You look busy."

"Quite."

The silence showed that Harry had been expecting a more prolific answer than the one she'd given.

"I'm taking notes on those charms Simon wants me learning." She had told Harry the importance of the letters in maintaining the confidentiality of the mission.

"Always an ambitious one, you were…" Harry muttered.

"Ron made his first arrest last night."

Harry jumped. "What!"

Hermione didn't look up and kept writing. "Jacob Grindle. I have to get the letter out to his next of kin by no later than this time tomorrow. I need to learn and perfect these spells by the end of the day."

"He's arrested someone already? Awful bloody soon isn't it?"

She huffed again and threw a piece of parchment at Harry that had been resting in the inside cover of the first book. It was a copy of the list Ron had sent back to Simon: the list he'd compiled of the names of the wizards and when he would be meeting them. Attached was a note from Simon that read, "This is the workload we're looking at."

"Well, then…" Harry paused awkwardly and cleared his throat. "I suppose that means we both have a lot of work to do."

"Bloody right, we do," Hermione grumbled under her breath. Harry still heard. He sighed inwardly. She was in that classic "It's final exams tomorrow and I have only one more day to study" mode. He had to admit he couldn't blame her… her fiancé was out somewhere in the middle of Germany doing who-knew-what every day and putting himself into danger, while she was stuck back at home totally helpless. To top it off, she had one measly day to learn two very complex spells.

He had no doubt it was perfectly within her abilities to do so, but it was nerve-wracking for her nonetheless.

"What can I do to help?" Harry offered. He was here to do a job, after all.

Without even looking up, she pointed to a stack of parchment airplanes in the corner of Ron's vacant desk.

"I have a load of memos that need answering, for one," she began. "Then after you get finished sorting through those, I'd just love it if you'd take a look at that list Ron send to Simon and figure out just exactly who the next of kin is for each one of those wizards."

"Right," Harry said, and plopped down at his desk.

* * *

Ron groaned as the harsh sunlight shone across his closed eyelids, waking him from a fitful sleep. He attempted to roll over on the lumpy mattress to hide himself from the sun, but it was no good. The small amount of sunlight that was peeking through the gap in the curtains on the bedroom window was enough to light the room, and he'd never get back to sleep on the ratty old mattress anyway. He groaned again as he rubbed his eyes vigorously and opened them slowly, sitting up in the bed. A yawn escaped his mouth as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and his feet touched the pile of clothes he'd thrown off the night before. Sighing, he thought longingly of the pillow top mattress he and Hermione shared in their flat back home as he kicked the clothes out of the way and stumbled into the shower.

He'd have been tempted to stay under the water all day if it hadn't turned cold after the first five minutes. A lumpy, old mattress lent to a very fitful sleep and he'd had trouble getting to sleep in the first place due to all the adrenaline from arresting Grindle.

Speaking of, he thought as he pored over his list and map, he had two more arrests tonight. One at midnight at _De List von Mann_ and a second at twelve thirty at a place called _Prost._ Ron didn't like the sound of _De List von Mann_ – the buyer there was purchasing _Subigo_, the liquid Imperius curse. Maxwell Bruskierung was his name. Ron shuddered to think what plans Bruskierung might have had for that potion, then checked the name for the _Prost_ arrest: M. Colin Faire. Ron found it odd that he was denoted by only a first initial and then his middle name, but shrugged it off. Robertson had his own way of doing things. It wasn't Ron's job to figure out his naming practices, just to make the arrests and get them back to the ministry. "M. Colin" was buying _Ferocitas_. Briefly, Ron wondered if this was his first time buying it, or his hundred and first… _Ferocitas_ was known for being highly addictive. It was noted that M. Colin would owe him 100G – one hundred galleons? Good Merlin, Ron didn't think _Ferocitas_ was that expensive. Ron thought back to when he copied the information over and remembered he'd come across an amount that had a character next to it that he wasn't entirely sure what it was… He'd guessed at a "G" and just kept on copying. Perhaps that was this one, and it had actually been an "S" for sickle…

Curious now, Ron dug around in the cabinets until he located the potion for "M. Colin" and studied the label attached to the neck of the small flask. Yes, this had been the one with the funny character… it looked almost like a funny sort of "E" but obviously "G," "S," and "K" were his only options for currency symbols… Ron really thought it resembled a quickly scribbled "G" more than an "S," but either way, it didn't truly matter. He just needed to get his hands around the wizard's wrist to apparate back the ministry.

* * *

"I sure hope I did all that properly…" Hermione said, as she sent the owl out of the Ministry's owlery carrying the charmed letter to Jacob Grindle's mother. It was 5:30. She'd been studying and practicing the charms all day. Finally, Harry had told her he didn't think she could get any better with it than she was and she might as well get the letter sent out before they left for the day. She'd reluctantly agreed but was clearly now having second thoughts.

"Hermione, you did it perfectly. Simon even said so as he watched you do it," Harry assured her.

She sighed. "I know, I just… I worry… I don't want to do anything that will jeopardize Ron's safety."

Harry placed a hand on her shoulder. "He'll be just fine, Hermione. He knows what he's doing."

She gave him a sideways glance and sighed again. "I know."

"Now, how about you get on home and actually relax for once?" Harry suggested.

"Actually," Hermione said, "I was hoping that maybe you and I could go grab a bite to eat? To congratulate us on a successful day?"

In all honestly, she really just didn't want to be alone in that flat. It felt empty without Ron.

Harry paused, then said, "Hermione, I'm sorry, but I told Ginny I'd take her out to dinner tonight…"

Damn.

"Oh… well, that's all right," she said, painting on a smile. "You two have fun! I'll make myself something nice at home. Maybe a nice roast or something…"

Harry smiled. "Don't work too hard, now. Relax, remember?"

"Right," she giggled. They walked to the lifts together and took them to the Atrium, where they both departed through separate fireplaces. Harry to the Burrow to pick up Ginny, Hermione back to her flat.

It really was empty without him, she thought, laying her bag down on the small dining room table. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her of her suggestion to have a roast for dinner. One half glance into the kitchen and semi-thought at how much work a roast would take was all she needed to convince her that she was most definitely not feeling up to making it.

"Salad it is, then," she mumbled to herself, grabbing some lettuce out of the fridge.

* * *

Ron landed with a _thud_ outside the back of _Prost_. Arresting Bruskierung had been nothing short of revolting, but successful. As it turns out, _De List von Mann_ had turned out to be a particularly raunchy strip club. There was no doubt in Ron's mind of Bruskierung's intended use for the _Subigo_ potion he'd been intending to buy. He had been a right old slime ball straight out of the pits of Hell, Ron thought. Thankfully the man had been too horny to suspect Ron for who he really was and the actual arrest had been relatively easy. He'd transported him to the ministry just like he'd done with Grindle and immediately apparated back to Germany to wait for M. Colin Faire.

Ron checked his watch – twenty five minutes past midnight. M. Colin should be coming out any moment now. He placed his hand cozily back in the front pocket of the large sweatshirt he was wearing. It was a particularly cold evening and the sky was covered in a thick layer of clouds. If Ron didn't know better, he'd think it might snow before the morning.

He shivered a little despite his many layers of clothing. He'd worn one of the pairs of boots he'd found in Robertson's closet the day before, plus the thickest pair of jeans in the dresser along with a T-shirt, black wool sweater, and the same forest green sweatshirt from the previous night. He'd always been much more of a warm-weather person despite his agonizingly pale skin, so it made the cold that much more torturous.

A soft cynical laugh trickled out of his mouth as he noticed one, then two, then ten snowflakes falling slowly to the ground. Just his luck…

His eyes snapped to the back door of the little restaurant when he heard the creak of the hinges. The man that stumbled out was in shambles… there was no better word for it. He half limped, half dragged himself to Ron's feet. His hands were visibly shaking and his pupils were so dilated that Ron wouldn't have been able to discern his eye color even if he tried.

Ron cringed inwardly when he realized this poor pathetic man had been taking _Ferocitas_ for a very, very long time. His signs of withdrawal were so pronounced Ron wondered if there'd be any help for him.

"Do… d'you… do ya have it, mate? The… the stuff?" he stuttered, gripping at Ron's jeans as he knelt in front of him.

"Right here," Ron answered, pulling the flask from his pocket. The man made a grab for it and Ron kicked at him.

"Oi!" he yelled, pulling out his wand. The man stared at it. "Hands to yourself," Ron said. "Now, you remember how much you owe me for this?"

"Of… of course," he said, releasing his grip on Ron's pants to dig in his own pockets. "Hundred… a hundred… euro… you said… right, mate?"

Ron blinked.

Euro?

"What the bloody hell is a damn _euro_?" Ron asked, pointing his wand at the man, who was pulling bits of paper out of his pocket.

"What the bl-bloody hell is th-that!" the man countered, pointing at Ron's wand with a shaking finger.

"It's a bloody _wand_, you…" Ron stopped short. "Do you have a wand?"

"No I haven't… haven't got a… a wand!" he stuttered. "What d'you th-think I am? Some k-kinda magician f-folk? Just g-gimme my… my stuff!"

Ron's mind was working a mile a minute. Euro, euro, where had he heard of a _euro_ before… he knew Hermione had mentioned it at _some_ point… pounds were the British Muggle currency but… euros… weren't euros the currency the bulk of Muggle Europe used?

_Holy Ghost of Merlin…_ the M. in front of Colin Faire's name hadn't stood for his first name…

It had stood for _Muggle_…

"Holy hell…" Ron said, but not quietly enough for Colin not to hear.

"What… what!" he cried. "Here's your money, I… I got it… here…" he said, and shoved five twenty-euro notes into Ron's hand.

Ron shook himself out of the shock he was in.

"Colin Faire, you are a bloody _fool_…" Ron spat. "What the fuck have you allowed to happen to yourself…"

"What're… what'dya mean, m-mate?" he asked, his eyes growing wider. Without wasting another moment Ron pointed his wand at Colin.

"_Incarcerous_," he said first, and ropes shot from his wand, binding Colin.

"_Bloody Hell—" _Colin started to shout, but Ron cut him off.

"Silencio!" he said, panicking. Colin's mouth was suddenly moving very rapidly, but no sound was coming out.

"Colin…" Ron started, but his mouth was still going at rapid speed. Desperate, Ron slapped Colin across the face, which seemed to knock some sense into him and he stared up at Ron, clearly frightened for his life.

"Colin, I need you to listen carefully," Ron started. Colin nodded. "I'm not Joshua Robertson."

Colin's eyes widened.

"Joshua Robertson was arrested two days ago and taken into custody. I am a member of law enforcement taking on his appearance. I am also a wizard. So was Robertson."

Colin's eyes got, if possible, even wider.

"You are what we call a Muggle – someone of non-magical ability. Our existence is kept from you for both our protection and yours. Robertson has crossed serious boundaries by selling an illegal potion to a Muggle – you. The potion you have been taking is extremely dangerous, highly addictive, and very much illegal in the wizarding world. Your health is at serious risk and you could potentially die without proper treatment. I am forced to bring you back to the Ministry of Magic for questioning and medical treatment, after which your memory will certainly be modified if you survive, and you will be returned to your normal lifestyle. Do you understand me?"

Colin gave no indication that he either understood or did not, only continued to stare at Ron in disbelief.

"Right, well, whether you understand or not, you're coming with me," Ron stated. He briefly wondered if he could safely transport a Muggle via apparition, but decided he didn't exactly have much of a choice and gripped Colin's bound arms anyway.

"Brace yourself," Ron said, and apparated out of the alley.

* * *

Ron tumbled onto the floor in the special room in the Department of Mysteries that had been charmed and protected specifically for the questioning and detainment of the wizards Ron brought back. He looked to his left and saw Colin lying motionless, still bound. For a moment Ron feared the worst, but then saw him move a little.

"This one put up a fight?" asked one of the Healers that were present, remarking on the ropes bounding Colin's wrists and ankles.

"Not exactly…" said Ron, getting to his feet, never taking his eyes off Colin. Wizards were rushing over to him at breaking speed.

"Wait!" Ron shouted. Colin's eyes were wide and scared and confused. The man might die of a damn heart attack if they all swooped in on him. "He's bound for a reason," he explained. "Somehow Robertson managed to sell some of his potions to Muggles."

There was a collective gasp.

"This man is a Muggle?" one Healer shouted. "Which potion has he been taking?"

"Ferocitas," Ron answered. "And by the looks of him, he's been taking it a while."

Poor Colin was looking about frantically and looked to be on the brink of a panic attack.

"Let's get the man sedated, someone bring me a dose of Living Death!" the same Healer called.

These words did absolutely nothing to calm Colin and he started thrashing about even more frantically. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Colin, calm down," Ron called. He jogged over to him and knelt next to him, gripping Colin's head in his hands.

Colin was hyperventilating.

"Listen, you're going to be all right," Ron said. "You're safe here. The potion they are giving you is like a sedative… it'll just… put you to sleep for a bit, you know? Once you're stable, they'll wake you up…"

Colin's eyes darted back and forth between Ron's.

Ron shook his head. "You've gotten yourself into a right bad spot, Colin," Ron said. "But the Healers here are top notch and they'll fix you up, and then they'll modify your memory so you don't remember any of this, all right?"

Colin nodded shakily.

"Here it is, I've got it," came another Healer's voice. He knelt down next to Ron, his white robes brushing the floor. He was holding an ordinary pewter goblet that was steaming. Ron instantly recognized the familiar Living Death draught.

"Come on, son, drink up," the Healer said, and tipped the goblet toward Colin's mouth. Colin looked uneasy but realized he had no choice and took a few swallows. Almost immediately he was slumping down onto the floor into a deep sleep, his breathing imperceptible.

There was a brief moment of silence, then the Healer stood and held out a hand to help Ron to his feet.

"That's a good thing you did, Weasley," he said quietly.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked.

"Most Aurors wouldn't have been so kind," he explained. "Would have just left him there, alone and confused and going through withdraw. A few might have even offed him."

"That's horrible…" Ron said. "I mean, I couldn't just leave him… he had no idea what was going on, he didn't know what he'd been taking…"

The Healer nodded grimly.

"Even those who would have brought him back here to us likely wouldn't have stayed like you did. In fact, from what I remember, you're not technically supposed to still be here."

Ron looked at the ground guiltily.

"I wanted to make sure the poor bloke would be all right…"

Silence from the Healer.

"He will be all right… won't he?" Ron asked, looking up at the older man.

He sighed deeply. "Time will tell. We've of course had cases before of Muggles taking wizarding potions, but a wizard selling a Muggle a highly illegal and addictive potion is much rarer. Wizards, with time and therapy, can get over addictions like that. With non-magical blood… I'm not so sure."

Ron bit his lip, thinking.

"What does this mean for Robertson?" Ron asked. "The fact that he sold to a Muggle? Isn't that a more severe offense?"

"It is, but as it is, he's already suspected of the murder of twelve people," the Healer reminded Ron. "I doubt his selling to a Muggle will change the life sentence in Azkaban surely coming his way."

"Right," Ron said. "Well, I'll be getting back to Germany. You'll… let me know, when he's better, won't you?"

"If he makes any progress I will send you a courtesy owl," the Healer said. "But his recovery will take time. Quite possibly a whole lot of it."

"So… Hermione…"

"Miss Granger will send out a letter to his next of kin as she is for the other arrests. We will make it a point to tell her to send it via Muggle post."

"Right."

"We'll see you tomorrow, then, Weasley?" the Healer asked, clapping Ron on the back.

"Yeah… tomorrow. Midnight, I think."

"We'll be here."

Ron turned to leave, but stopped.

"Could you do me a favor? When you talk to Hermione?"

"Certainly."

"Could you… would it be possible… for you to let her know that I miss her? And that I love her?"

The Healer seemed a little surprised at first, but smiled warmly.

"I'll personally pass along the message, Weasley."

Ron smiled. "Thanks."

"Till tomorrow," the Healer said.

"Yeah… till tomorrow," Ron replied. He sighed, then turned on his heel and was gone from the room.

* * *

Hermione looked up when she heard a knock at the office door. She'd come in about an hour early that day… it was only seven, so she knew that Harry wouldn't be coming in yet.

"Come in," she called, and spun her chair around so she was facing the door.

"Good morning, Miss Granger. I was hoping you'd be here. I'm just finishing up my overnight shift," the man said. He was dressed in white robes with the St. Mungo's crest on them, so she knew he must be a Healer.

"Good morning," she replied hesitantly. "How can I help you?" she asked.

The Healer smiled.

"Two things," he answered. "One is to tell you that there were two arrested men brought back last night, as I'm sure you know from the list you were given."

"Of course," Hermione said. "Bruskierung and Faire, weren't they?"

"That's correct," the Healer nodded. "I needed to tell you to send Bruskierung's letter out per owl post as usual, but to make sure to locate a physical address for Faire's next of kin and send his letter via Muggle post."

Hermione blinked and narrowed her eyes.

"Sir… Faire wasn't a…"

"A Muggle, yes," the Healer affirmed. "He's in a bad state. Weasley was practically a hero bringing him back here the way he did."

Hermione let a smile slip across her lips.

"Speaking of Weasley," the Healer continued, "that's the other reason I'm here."

Hermione's smile faded. "Oh no, is he all right? What's happened?"

"Nothing, Miss Granger, he's just fine. Probably sleeping soundly in his flat at this point, I'm sure," the Healer chuckled. "Now, you keep this just between you and me, all right? This is strictly against protocol."

"Of course…" Hermione said, exceedingly curious.

The Healer leaned down closer to her and lowered his voice.

"He told me to make sure I personally delivered the message to you that he misses you very much, and that he loves you."

He smiled warmly.

Hermione bit her lip and a tear trickled down her cheek.

"Thank you, sir… so much… I needed that… if you see him again… could you tell him I miss him and love him, too? And to be safe?"

"I'll do my best," the Healer assured her. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Your fiancé is a brave and strong wizard, Miss Granger. He will be just fine."

She smiled. "Thank you, sir."

"I'll leave you to your work," the Healer said. "I've got a warm bed at home calling my name!"

"I'm sure," Hermione said. "Thank you again."

"My pleasure," he nodded, and walked out of her office.

Hermione bit her lip again, let another tear fall, took a deep breath, and then got back to the letters she'd be sending out that day.


	8. Christmas Shopping

AN: Yes, miracles do happen... updates two days in a row... no promises on how I'll be able to fair after this... feel free to check the blog for my frustrations in writing this chapter and also some photos in relation to it... as a reminder, it's **spicysugar368 [dot] tumblr [dot] com** ... Enjoy chapter 8!

* * *

**Chapter 8**

_Christmas Shopping_

* * *

"At least the fact that I have to keep sending out these letters lets me know that arrests keep happening, which means he's alive and well…" Hermione stated glumly, watching yet another owl fly out of the owlery carrying a heavily charmed letter.

Harry put an arm around her.

"Sometimes I wonder if you have any faith in him at all," he said, chuckling.

"Of course I do," Hermione said quickly. She sighed, then leaned her head into Harry's chest. "I just… worry."

"I know."

It had been a week since he'd left, but each agonizing day had felt like a week in and of itself. Hermione was growing used to the emptiness of the flat, but it didn't make it any more pleasant.

"Dinner?" Harry offered. "My treat."

"Oh, are we going to the Leaky Cauldron again?" Hermione asked playfully.

"You caught me," Harry said guiltily, smiling. "Actually I was going to suggest the Three Broomsticks."

"Oh, because that pub is just so much better," Hermione retorted sarcastically, but she was grinning.

"Well, I thought maybe while we're in Hogsmeade we could knock out some Christmas shopping," Harry suggested. "It's only two weeks away, you know."

"As if I need reminding, Mr. Potter," Hermione said. "I've been Christmas shopping for weeks…"

"Yeah, well… I haven't… so you should definitely still come and at least pretend to shop for my sake."

Hermione laughed in spite of herself.

"All right then, dinner on you at the Three Broomsticks – and mind you I'll only be impressed if you actually pull out gold and legitimately pay for the meal – and then I'll walk around and pretend to shop when I'm actually assisting you in choosing things for your loved one's Christmas gifts."

Harry smirked.

"Sounds about right to me," he said. "Shall we?"

Hermione checked her watch.

"But… it's only half past four…"

Harry shook his head.

"And you skipped lunch. I really don't think Simon is going to mind if you leave early."

"Well, I…"

"Come on," Harry said, and he took her by the arm and gently led her from the room, straight to the lifts, where they took the quickest route back to their office. Harry let Hermione stay in the room only long enough to collect her bag before leading her right back to the lifts.

"Hey, you could have at least let me…"

"Nope. No work. You're off for the day and damn it you're going to enjoy an evening out instead of sitting alone in your flat all night."

He smiled in spite of the harsh words.

"Come on, Hermione. You're an empty shell. You need to lighten up and have fun."

She sighed heavily as they walked toward the fireplaces.

"You're right, I know you are…"

"And that only happens about one in a hundred thousand times with you, so I'm reveling in it," Harry interjected.

She giggled.

"So, to the Three Broomsticks?" Harry asked, stepping into a fireplace.

"Right behind you!" Hermione called, as Harry disappeared. She stepped in as soon as he was gone and flooed right behind him to the Three Broomsticks.

He was standing there waiting for her when she stepped out of the large floo fireplace in the Three Broomsticks – kept apart from the roaring fireplace in the center of the pub that warmed the customers.

"Let's sit by a window," Hermione suggested. "I like to people watch."

"Sometimes I wonder if maybe you should have been a reporter," Harry quipped as he followed her to a table for two by the window and sat across from her. "With how much you like to study people and how well you write… Hell, you could be the next Rita Skeeter!"

Hermione kicked him under the table and glared at him.

"If you _ever_ compare me to that _witch_ of a woman _ever_ again…" she growled.

"Easy, I was only kidding!" Harry said, smiling.

Hermione tried to maintain a fierce glare but it didn't work.

"So, you'll be getting a nice big cheeseburger, right?" Harry grinned.

Hermione looked down at the menu that had magically appeared. "Actually, I was thinking something more along the lines of a grilled chicken salad…"

"Cheeseburger it is, then," said Harry. "And I believe I heard you say topped with a big fat heap of bacon, yes?"

"I said absolutely _no such thing…_"

"Are we ready to order?" came the friendly voice of Madame Rosmerta hovering over their table. Harry looked up at her and smiled charmingly while Hermione easily found her glare again and set it on him unblinkingly.

"I believe so," said Harry, in his most winning voice. He spared a glance at Hermione and after noticing the glare decided to keep looking at Rosmerta. "We'll take two butterbeers to start."

"Absolutely," she said, not even writing on a pad.

"And then… I think two double bacon cheeseburgers should do. With chips on the side."

Rosmerta raised an eyebrow and cast a glance at Hermione, who was clearly irritated.

"Are you sure?"

"He won't let me order anything different even if I tried, I promise you," Hermione snipped, still not taking her eyes off Harry. He gave her a big smile, then looked back up at Rosmerta.

"Yes, I believe we're sure," he said.

"Right-o, then, loves," Rosmerta said, and walked away briskly to deliver the order to the kitchen.

"I hate you."

Harry just smiled.

* * *

"Dear God… that was… the most amazing tasting thing…"

Harry was beaming.

"I told you so."

"How can something so… so… _awful_… taste so marvelous…" she cried, seemingly very displeased with her inexplicable liking of the dish.

"That's exactly why it's so good!" Harry said. "Because it's so horrendously bad for you."

"That makes _no sense_…" Hermione grumbled.

"Just because you don't understand it doesn't make it any less true," Harry said. "Oh listen to me, I sound like you, that's just awful."

Hermione giggled in spite of herself.

"Let's get some shopping done, all right?" Harry said. He pulled some coins from his pocket and placed them on the table. "See? Real gold."

Hermione squinted at them and Harry guessed she was likely trying to see if perhaps it was leprechaun gold, but she gave up.

"Fine, let's go," she said.

"Promise you'll forgive me for making you eat the most amazing dinner you've ever had?" Harry asked, with exaggerated puppy dog eyes as they walked into the snow-covered streets of Hogsmeade.

Hermione chuckled. "I forgive you."

"Great!" Harry said. "So, where to first?"

Hermione just laughed and shook her head. "You're the one who has shopping to do!" she said. "Where do you want to go?"

"Well, I obviously need to get something for Ginny…"

"Of course."

"Something for her mother probably wouldn't hurt either…"

"What a gentleman," Hermione said, smirking.

"And Ron… what about Ron?" Harry asked quietly. "That list had him in Germany until mid-January…"

Hermione bit her lip. "Well, we could always owl something to him," she suggested. She recalled the few owls she had been able to receive from Ron since his departure and the letters she'd sent back. "I mean, the owl he sends knows where he is," she went on. "As long as he arrives sometime before Christmas, we can get something sent to him, right?"

"And we could always give it to him when comes home," Harry reasoned. "If we can't send it with Michelo."

Hermione didn't say anything and Harry realized she was thinking about Ron too much, which was precisely what he'd been trying to avoid by inviting her out with him.

"And of course there's you, I have to get you something," he said, bringing Hermione out of her thoughts.

"Well, you obviously can't get that while I'm right here with you…"

"Says who?" said Harry, grinning. "It'll make sure it's something you like. I'll just hide it from you, wrap it up, and you'll have to wait until Christmas to have it!"

Hermione laughed. "That's ridiculous, Harry…"

"But it's brilliant!"

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say. So, Ginny first?"

"She'll be the most expensive, so might as well… I'd say the jeweler is in order for that one…"

"I doubt you'll find anything there more impressive than the diamond she's sporting on her left hand, but you could certainly give it a shot," Hermione said with a smile.

"By the time I'm done with her, that woman is going to be covered in diamonds and gems," Harry said. "It's my job!"

She chuckled. "All right, the jeweler it is, then."

Hermione confessed inwardly to herself, once they'd stepped inside the shop, that she'd never actually been in here before, and thanked her stars now that she hadn't. And quite frankly, she didn't think she'd ever be back… She was surrounded on all sides, from the floor to the walls, by brilliantly white walls all covered in jewels and gems, diamonds and gold and silver. It gave her a headache just to look around.

"So… what do you suggest, Hermione?" Harry asked, walking around aimlessly.

"Her birthday's in August," Hermione suggested. "Why not something with her birthstone? Peridot?"

"Can I be of assistance?" came the voice of the shopkeeper. He was elderly but clearly knowledgeable. He stood tall without the typical stoop in the back many elderly folk had. His suit was silver like his hair and he was wearing a bright blue vest and tie to go with it.

"Erm, yes, actually," Harry said. "I'm looking for something for my fiancée for Christmas… something with Peridot."

"Of course, Mr. Potter," the shopkeeper said. Hermione wondered if he knew Harry because of Harry's fame or because Harry had been here many times before. "Our peridot selection is just over this way," he said, leading Harry to the back of the shop. Hermione wandered the opposite direction, to the front of the store, where the bridal sets were. She gave her left hand a half glance at the engagement ring that sat there. An rookie Auror's salary couldn't buy much, but it was beautiful, she told herself. It was a single diamond solitaire set in the middle of braided white gold.

One look into the bridal case and she immediately regretted it. The rings that were there were absolutely stellar. One, two, even three carat settings… tri-stones, solitaires, princess cut and marquis cut… some surrounded by smaller diamonds, others having small diamonds totally around the ring band.

Hermione thought longingly of Ginny's engagement ring for just a brief moment… it was a stunning tri-stone setting, with small diamonds running all the way around the band. Even the interior of the band was perfectly sculpted, and the whole thing shone like the very heavens no matter where it was…

Hermione bit her lip. Jealousy would get her nowhere. She loved Ron, and Ron loved her, and he'd bought her the best that his money could buy. And it was beautiful, she told herself firmly, looking down at her left hand again.

"Hermione!" Harry called, breaking her out of her thoughts. "What do you think of this?"

She glanced over to where he and the jeweler were standing together and walked over. Harry was holding a beautiful pendant – a heart-shaped peridot stone surrounded by diamonds.

"I think it's perfect," Hermione breathed. "Harry, it's just beautiful."

"Great!" Harry said. "I'll take this one, then," he said to the jeweler.

"Splendid, Mr. Potter!" the shopkeeper replied. Hermione, who had less than zero desire to know just how much that necklace was going to cost Harry, drifted over to the next counter, featuring September's birthstone, sapphire. Her birthday was September 19 and she had always longed for a piece of birthstone jewelry but had never received one.

Her eye caught on a simple but absolutely gorgeous tennis bracelet, with alternating diamonds and sapphires. It was set in either silver or white gold – she couldn't tell – but it was easily the most stunning piece in the case. (Probably not actually, she reminded herself, as there were far most ostentatious pieces surrounding it, but she was hooked on that bracelet.)

"See something you like?" came Harry's voice from behind her. She jumped.

"Goodness, Harry, you startled me…" she said.

"Sorry," said Harry. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"You're looking awfully close at _something_ in this cabinet…"

"Oh! It's nothing… just the bracelet, there on the left at the top, do you see it?"

"Yeah I think so," Harry said. "It's quite pretty."

"It's beautiful…" Hermione whispered longingly.

Harry smiled. "Maybe Ron will send you something like that from Germany…"

Hermione sighed. "I highly doubt that," she said. "Though I certainly wouldn't say no to some German chocolate…"

"Hermione Granger? Wanting something unhealthy?" Harry asked, disbelieving.

"Chocolate is the exception," she explained. "Every sane woman needs good quality chocolate to survive…"

"My mistake," Harry chuckled. "Let's keep on, shall we?"

"Absolutely," Hermione said, tearing herself away from the bracelet and following Harry out of the shop.

* * *

Several hours later, they both appeared in Harry's living room, each of them holding as many packages and bags as they could carry. A fair few of them dropped to the floor when they arrived. Hermione had made a few purchases – she couldn't help herself. She'd always loved spoiling people and giving people things.

"All right, let's figure out which of these are mine so I don't accidentally take yours home with me…" Hermione said, letting the rest of the packages fall to the floor and dropping to her knees to look through them. Harry joined her and soon they had sorted all the boxes and bags into two separate piles: Harry's, which was quite large, and Hermione's, which was rather modest.

"Do you want a bag to put an Undetectable Extension Charm on to get these all home?" Harry asked.

"Too much work," Hermione said. "Doing one of those is exhausting. I'll just carry them home, it's a lot less than we had to apparate here with."

"Yeah, well, we just barely made it here without losing anything in the abyss," Harry noted. "I'll apparate with you and carry some of it."

"Harry, you really don't have to do that…"

"Hermione, it's apparition. It's not like I'm having to drive you all the way home and drive back," he chuckled. "I can be back here and cozy in less than five minutes."

"True…" Hermione admitted. "Well, all right, let's get it all collected then." They split Hermione's packages between them – though Hermione was sure Harry was taking the larger and heavier ones to spare her the effort – and apparated together to the inside of Hermione's flat.

"Thanks so much, just drop them there on the couch, I'll take care of them later…"

"Later? It's nearly ten, Hermione," Harry pointed out as he placed the packages where she'd requested and she followed suit. "You're normally in bed by now aren't you?"

"Well, then, maybe I'll take care of them tomorrow," Hermione admitted.

She found herself avoiding Harry's gaze. Her heartbeat was just a little faster than normal. This was the first time she had been truly _alone_ with Harry, outside of work, in ages… They weren't in a public place, there was no one around, they were totally alone…

What was _wrong_ with her…

"Hermione?"

"Hmm? What?" she said, her gaze snapping to his.

"Are you all right? You seem… odd."

"Oh! Yes, Harry, of course, I'm fine."

_Worried, confused, anxious, nervous… yes, of course, those all amount to 'fine'…_

The more she focused on her anxiety, the worse it became. Her palms got sweaty, her heart beat even faster, her breathing became shallow…

"Hermione… what's wrong?" Harry asked.

Her heart only beat faster.

"I… I'm not sure…" she answered honestly.

Harry's eyes narrowed with concern and he brought her into his arms, holding her close. She breathed in his scent, remembered how he smelled, remembered how he felt, and relaxed into his arms.

Her heart wasn't slowing down any, though…

She buried her head in his chest, trying to steady her breathing and slow down her heart rate.

"Harry…" she said, not lifting her head.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Do you… ever think about that day… in the tent?" she asked slowly.

Harry took a deep breath. Hoo, boy. He didn't have to ask to know what she meant.

"More than I'd like to admit, I think," he said quietly. She was silent. "Do you?" he countered.

She nodded against his chest. "Yeah… I do." She looked up at him. "Why do you suppose neither of us can forget about it, Harry?" she asked.

He met her eyes and was immediately taken back to that night by the fire… when his eyes had stared into hers as he'd thrust into her for the first time… it had been so amazing…

"I… I'm not entirely sure why, Hermione," Harry said quietly. "It was… it was wonderful, and I loved being so close to you…"

"I loved it, too," she admitted. "I wouldn't take it back for anything."

"I wouldn't either," Harry agreed.

She wouldn't stop looking into his eyes.

"Harry…"

His mind was mush. He didn't know what to think, what to do… so he did the only thing that felt natural…

He slowly leaned down, and he kissed her.

Hermione's breath caught right in her chest when his lips met hers and she was instantly back next to the fire that night years ago… Harry's kisses were so much different from Ron's, so much more passionate, so much deeper… she fell into his kiss, let her tongue dance with his, wrapped her arms around his neck… she let herself feel every inch of him, pressing herself to him desperately.

He gripped her just as tightly, one hand in her hair and the other on the small of her back, trying to pull her even closer to him… she felt so wonderful, just like she had that precious night together. For a moment he couldn't imagine a better feeling…

Until she pulled away.

Both of them were left gasping for breath, gazes locked.

"Harry…"

"Hermione, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"

"No, no you shouldn't have…"

A silence.

"But God it felt so good…" she whimpered. Harry cradled her cheek in one hand.

"It didn't happen, all right? It was a mistake, and we'll forget about it in the morning," he assured her.

"Right, of course…" she said, nodding slightly.

"Get some sleep," Harry said softly. "I know you're tired."

"You too," she replied. "We have work in the morning, you know."

Harry gave a small smile. "Yes, trust me, I know," he said. "Till tomorrow."

"Till tomorrow…" she answered, and he was gone.

She stood there in silence for a moment, then…

"Hermione Jean Granger, you are an _IDIOT_…" she said aloud through gritted teeth. Her heart was beating, if anything, even faster now, and her breathing rate definitely hadn't improved one iota. Frustrated, she threw herself into her room and onto her bed. She felt like a teenager doing it, but she did the classic scream-into-the-pillow trick. It didn't help a whole lot, but it did get some frustration out.

How could she have been so _stupid_…

Maybe she'd wake up in the morning, and she'd have herself convinced it was a dream… or a nightmare…

She fell into a fitful sleep, all her clothes still on and on top of the covers, dreaming of nothing but Harry.


	9. DM

AN: Boyfriend is home now. This could either be a good or bad thing for my writing, depending, but after this chapter I'm getting quite excited about the direction this story will be taking, so perhaps updates will be more frequent...

On another note, there's a photo or two on the blog in relation to this chapter. **[[ spicysugar368 (dot) tumblr (dot) com ]]**

* * *

**Chapter 9**

_D.M._

* * *

The splash of cold water to his face did nothing to quiet the obnoxious voice inside his head berating him for being a bumbling XY-chromosomed idiot.

Audibly growling, he reached for a towel and scrubbed it over his features, preferring the harshness to a drying charm. It, also, did nothing to quiet the voice. He let out an exasperated sigh and then thanked his lucky stars that Ginny's family was very protective of their only daughter and therefore wouldn't allow her to live with him until they were married, because he didn't know if he could have come home to her, slept next to her, and woken up with her after his stupid assed mistake of the night before.

His stomach twisted a little at the thought of Ginny, but he tried not to let his stomach get to the point of annoying that the voice inside his head was.

_Good-for-nothing, stupid, ridiculous IDIOT… _it kept chanting. _HOW could you potentially ruin your friendship with Hermione? HOW could you cheat on Ginny – even it was just a kiss? HOW could you be so insufferably STUPID?_

As it was he'd spent a nearly sleepless night tossing and turning over the conflicted thoughts in his head. First wondering why he'd done it in the first place, then wondering why in the hell it had felt so good and so right, and then above all wondering why one single godforsaken kiss could tear his head up this much.

_Because you miss her?_ Supplied a new voice, this one different from the same obnoxious one that had been plaguing him for the past nine or so hours. Of course, Mr. Obnoxious wasted no time in stamping the small new voice into the ground.

_Miss her? Right. That's why she's engaged to your best friend and you're engaged to the absolutely wonderful Ginny Weasley. Because you "miss her."_

Harry nearly banged his head into his shower door when the unwelcome memory pushed itself into his head.

"_I miss you, Hermione."_

_Hermione turned her head to look at him._

"_I'm right here, Harry."_

"_You're right here, but… we're never together. I miss being together. I miss Hogwarts. I miss sitting together in the Great Hall. I miss having late night talks with you in the common room. Hell, I even miss the crazy adventures – they seem like trivial playthings compared to this."_

_Hermione was silent but kept his gaze._

"_I miss you," he said again._

_She sighed._

"_I miss you, too."_

Fuck.

A cold shower… that was what he needed…

* * *

He wasn't at all surprised when he showed up outside their closed office door at precisely 8:00 and saw light peeking out from beneath it. Hermione was never "on time" for anything and that was because she was always early to everything. She'd probably been here since at least 7:30.

Sighing, he straightened his shoulders and put a hand on the doorknob. No use putting off the inevitable. He opened the door and his eyes habitually glanced to her desk, where she sat with her back to him.

Her back which, he noticed, stiffened a little when she'd heard the door open. Fantastic…

"Morning," he said, as cheerily as he could. (Which, he noted, wasn't very much so.)

"Morning…" she mumbled, scratching away at a letter she was writing.

"Sleep well?" he asked, then mentally kicked himself. What a stupid question.

"Just wonderfully," she clipped, in a very obviously false-positive note. "You?"

"Never better," he answered, wondering just how thin the ice was that he was not-so-carefully treading on. Well, that at least told him she'd slept no better than he had.

"We'll hopefully find out who the mysterious 'D.M.' is tomorrow," Hermione said, breaking the momentary silence. Harry was about to ask what she meant when he remembered that they'd come across a name on the list Ron had provided them that had been merely initials.

"Ah, that arrest is scheduled for tonight?" Harry asked. "What's he being busted for, again?"

"Nothing too bad," Hermione said. "If he's lucky he shouldn't have more than a few months in Azkaban. Just a few draughts of _Effugium_."

Harry hesitated, knowing he should know that potion and not wanting to push any of Hermione's buttons by forcing her to supply the information. However, after a mere two seconds of his confused silence, Hermione filled in the blanks anyway.

"It's Latin for 'escape,'" she explained. "It's a numbing potion, both physically and emotionally. The drinker can feel literally nothing and usually goes into a comatose state for a few hours after drinking it."

She still hadn't looked at him, but Harry sensed she was becoming minutely more relaxed with each passing moment.

"St. Mungo's healers usually use it on patients in an extreme amount of magically inflicted pain or to sedate patients with mental illnesses who have bouts of hysteria," she continued. "It's authorized for Healer use only, and only a few Healers have those privileges. The fact that Robertson knows how to brew it shows he is either exceptionally intelligent or has inside sources in St. Mungo's, which is an even larger issue."

Harry realized she was retreating into her safe zone – the place where she had all the answers and knew everything that needed to be known for the situation at hand.

Which, he was almost entirely sure, she had no clue what to make of the situation the previous night or the remaining tension hanging in the air between them at that very moment. Thus… launching herself into a rant about a subject of which she knew much would be a perfect escape for her.

Harry mentally shook his head – he knew way too much about this woman. He didn't even know Ginny's idiosyncrasies and tics as well as he knew Hermione's. He reminded himself that came from knowing her for a solid ten years running now, but it was still unsettling to know more about one's best friend than the woman one intended to marry…

"Are you ever going to sit down?" she asked, turning around in her chair to – finally – look at him.

Harry was only a little startled to realize that, indeed, he had been standing ever since he walked into the office, when he normally bolted for the chair at his desk.

"I was just about to," he replied, pulling out his chair and doing so. "Were any arrests made last night that you have to charm letters for?"

"Nope," she replied. "Ron's first night off since he's been gone."

"So, nothing for you to do today, then?" Harry asked.

Hermione heaved a great sigh.

"Nothing except come up with a particularly good reason to not attend this thing…" she mumbled, tossing a paper airplane memo over to Harry. It unfolded itself in his hands and Harry skimmed the neat script in front of him.

_Mr Ronald Weasley_

_Ms Hermione Granger_

_Mr Harry Potter_

_You are cordially invited to the Annual Ministry of Magic Yuletide Ball_

_Friday Evening, the Twenty-Fourth of December_

_Between the hours of Seven and Eleven O'Clock_

_At the Trinity House of London_

_Hors-d'oeuvres & Dinner Will Be Provided_

_The Minister of Magic personally extends his invitation_

_That at least one exceptional member of each office_

_Be in attendance at this prestigious event_

Harry had to read it over a few times. He'd remembered Ron and Hermione talking about it the previous year, but as he hadn't been working with them at the time, he hadn't been required to attend.

"Do they always make that little plea at the end for at least one person from each office to come?" Harry asked.

Hermione sighed and nodded. "It's their ridiculous way of making sure there's actually people there, instead of everyone skipping out because it's on Christmas Eve. And it's _always_ on Christmas Eve, every year."

Harry was silent.

"And of course, you know, last year I didn't mind going because I was with Ron and it was a nice evening out…" Hermione started. "But he's not here now and I'm not exactly keen on going alone. Thus, I'm trying to figure out the best possible reason for me not to go…"

"Hey now," Harry jabbed. "That just leaves me and that means I'm required to go, it says at least one person from each office."

Hermione, of course, had considered this.

"Just take Ginny, I'm sure she will be nothing short of thrilled…"

"Not happening," Harry countered. "This is her last Christmas at home, the whole family is taking a trip to her Aunt Muriel's starting the twenty-third. They're coming home Christmas day."

Hermione was speechless.

"Well I'm certainly not forcing myself to attend that wretched thing alone, surrounded by happy couples and wonderful Christmas merriment, when I'm bloody without my fiancé…"

"Like I'd like to do that?" Harry shot back. "I'd be just as alone as you would."

The solution hit Harry in the face like a wall of bricks just then, but he knew better than to suggest such a thing. After what happened the previous night, there was no _way_ they could go—

"Together," Hermione suddenly said. "You could escort me, since Ron can't. As friends."

Harry was stunned into silence.

"At least one of us has to go," Hermione prodded on, "And I think we were very clear that neither of us is going alone. So, unless you'd like to play rock paper scissors for it, I think the only solution is for us both to attend. Together."

"Right," Harry said, his mouth hanging open a little. "I mean – are you sure?" he asked.

"Unless you have any better ideas, I think this is our only option."

Harry shut his mouth. She was right.

"Right, okay then," he said. "Together. Christmas Eve. Which is… a week from tomorrow."

* * *

Damn Robertson and his stupid cryptic initial coding system…

Ron was staring at the three vials bound together with twine in his hand. Attached to them was the slip of paper stating "_Effugium (3) – D.M. - 16 December – 2300 – Englisher Garten; Sckell Monument – 75.G_"

He'd already taken a trip over to the _Englisher Garten _earlier today, which hadn't taken a whole lot of thinking to figure out it meant "English Garden." He'd never been there before, but he had to admit it certainly was a beautiful place. While he was strolling around he'd located an information booth that had brochures for the park in it. He could make out a few of the words and piece together some sentences, but by checking the numerous photos and the various captions, he was able to locate the Sckell Monument. Tall and ostentatious as it was, Ron really rather thought it looked a bit like something much more crude from a distance… but it certainly did overlook a gorgeous lake… the _Kleinhesseloher See_.

Of course, Ron had gone when there was still plenty of daylight. The crude looking statue and the pretty lake would be hardly visible when he went in the dark of night at 11:00 this evening.

Which, Ron noted, checking his watch, was in fifteen minutes. His stomach gurgled at the prospect of yet another bout of polyjuice, but he swallowed down the feeling.

He still hadn't quite figured out how he was going to address this mystery client. Robertson clearly knew him well, else he wouldn't feel the need to only label the client by his initials. Or, Ron pondered, perhaps his initials were all Robertson knew of the person, and that's how he referred to him. Would be pretty bright on the side of the client, Ron thought, because it would lessen his chances of being discovered if Robertson got caught…

Sucked to be him that he was going to get caught anyway, Ron thought.

Ron took a deep breath and hopped off the stool he'd been occupying in the potions lab within Robertson's apartment and walked over to the opposite counter, where Ron's carefully labeled and secluded beaker of polyjuice potion sat. Grimacing, he picked up the beaker in one hand, pinched his nose with the other, and took a swallow. The painful sensation that he didn't think he'd ever get used to immediately began and he suffered through it for the few minutes it lasted. He'd of course had to be wearing Robertson's clothes all the time now, since he had none of his own, so the finished product of the transformation always felt more comfortable in whatever he was wearing at the time.

There had been a few pathway lights illuminating the area around the statue when Ron had visited there earlier, which he'd taken a few moments to subtly disable with a few whispered "reducto" curses when no one was around. Praying that no one had noticed and replaced the lights since his absence, Ron tucked the vials of _Effugium_ into his sweatshirt pocket and apparated to the location.

Mercifully, it was pitch black.

"_Homenum Revelio_," Ron whispered. A few faint white lights far off in the distance showed him a few late night park goers, but otherwise, he was totally alone. "_Lumos_," he said, lighting the tip of his wand just long enough to show him that he was, indeed, at the Sckell Monument, before extinguishing it.

It hadn't been dark two seconds, however, before Ron heard a soft pop beside him.

D.M. had arrived.

"_Guten Abend_," Ron said quietly.

"Hello, Robertson," a husky voice answered. He sounded tired, worn down… probably from using too much Effugium, Ron thought. A mere shell of who he used to be, whoever that was.

"_Lumos_," came the soft whisper – but this time it wasn't Ron who uttered it. Ron looked to his left to see his client's wand lit, but couldn't help the shocked gasp that emitted from his throat. It was out before he could stop it.

"_Malfoy?_" he whispered.

His hand tightened around his lit wand, his eyes narrowing.

"What was that?" he croaked.

Ron stared in disbelief. There was no denying it. It was most definitely the same Draco Malfoy he'd gone to school with, the same Draco Malfoy Harry had pulled onto his broom that horrific night in the castle when Voldemort had invaded, the same Draco Malfoy who disappeared after the war and was never heard from again…

Until now…

And his obvious surprise at Ron uttering his name meant that Ron's second theory, that he'd never told Robertson his full name, was the correct one. Realizing he couldn't cover his slip, Ron decided to bluff his way out.

"Come on, you twit, you don't think I know who you are…" Ron growled. There was more malice in his voice than there should be, but he couldn't help it. "When He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named got offed four years ago you and your parents ran off like nothing happened…"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Malfoy sneered, but his voice was weak and his eyes didn't quite meet Ron's.

"That's why you've been buying all this Effugium, isn't it?" Ron spat. He was bluffing, but based on Malfoy's haggard appearance and hollowed out voice, he had reason enough to believe this wasn't his first time round the block. "You've been blocking out the pain, blocking out the memories…"

Ron almost felt sorry for him.

"You shut your mouth, Robertson…" Malfoy growled. "I'm warning you… you just give me what I came here for…"

"Or what?" Ron couldn't help but to say. He was treading on dangerous ground, and he knew it, but he couldn't pass up the chance to face off with Draco Malfoy himself, bleeding little coward that he was… "What are you going to do to me, you helpless little addict?"

"I said… shut… _up!_" Malfoy said, and a jet of red light shot out of the end of his wand. Ron quickly – wordlessly – used his wand to create a brief _Protego_ shield to block the spell.

"Are you fucking nuts?" Ron hissed. "Do you want every Muggle in the bloody area to find us?"

"One more word, Robertson, and I swear…"

Hatred such as Ron had never felt for Draco Malfoy before was bubbling up inside him. Not only had he done his best to make his, Harry's, and especially Hermione's life hell growing up, but he'd tried to kill them all, they'd fucking _saved his bloody life_ and he repaid them by running off into hiding and abusing illegal potions…

"You fucking coward, what could you ever do to me," Ron sneered.

He'd pushed too far, he knew before the words had even left his mouth. He nearly swore he saw something literally snap behind Malfoy's dark, sullen eyes.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Malfoy yelled. Ron ducked and rolled just in time – he could feel the heat of the curse shoot over his head.

"_Stupefy!_" he shouted back, but his curse missed and rebounded off the statue, which was now behind Malfoy. He barely ducked in time to avoid another jet of green light but lost his footing and realized just then how very close he was to the edge of the lake… because he fell right in.

Of course it was shallow to start but it was frigidly cold, just above freezing… and the added weight of the water in his clothes made it that much harder to move.

"_Stupefy!_" he tried again. This time Malfoy had to block it. Ron was struggling to his feet, trying to ignore the cold setting deep into his bones already. He'd be at risk for hypothermia if he didn't get out of here soon…

There was a mad glint in Malfoy's eye and Ron knew he'd snapped. Every time he raised his wand, he was aiming to kill.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck…_

He was slowly walking toward Ron's struggling figure – Ron still hadn't gotten to his feet, the rocks underfoot were slippery and his entire bottom half was weighted down with heavy waterlogged clothing. Suddenly, Malfoy was within arm's reach of Ron.

It was crazy, but it might be his only shot…

Gripping his wand tightly in his right hand, he lunged out and wrapped his left arm around Malfoy's legs and yanked as hard as he could. Malfoy was startled enough that he didn't have time to react and he toppled overtop of Ron and headfirst into the shallow water. Ron took the opportunity to – finally – get his footing and propel himself into a standing position, whipping himself around to face Malfoy, writhing about in the water.

"_Incarcerous!_" Ron yelled, followed by "_Expelliarmus!_" Malfoy's wand wriggled its way out of his bound hands and flew into Ron's outstretched one. Ron took a heavy step toward Malfoy and put a silencing charm on him, just for good measure, and dragged him out of the water. Ron was panting and shivering at the same time. He was getting colder by the minute and he knew his core body temperature had to be dropping.

"You, you pathetic little slime ball," Ron growled at Malfoy's stunned eyes, "are coming with me."

And in a pop, they were gone.

* * *

Ron sat in a corner of the prepared room for the arrested clients he brought back, wrapped in nothing but several large, warm blankets. The Healers in the room had immediately stripped both he and Malfoy of everything they were wearing right down to the skin to minimize their exposure to the cold. Malfoy had been sedated and was currently in a separate room in the company of several Healers and covered in blankets.

"Hoo, buddy," said the same Healer Ron had talked to the previous week. "I still can't believe you found that Malfoy kid."

Ron's pride was a little hurt at him referring to Malfoy as a "kid" when Ron was the same age as he was, but didn't let it get to him.

Ron had finally stopped shivering and hoped that his body temperature was coming back to normal so someone could bring him clothes and he could apparate back to Germany and go to bed. This was way too much headache for one night. Ron thought his days of near-death encounters were over, but obviously not.

"You doin' all right, son?" the Healer asked. Ron had learned his name was Jason. Whether that was his first name or surname, he wasn't entirely sure, but it would do.

"Yeah, Jason, I'm okay… as okay as I can be. Can't say I haven't seen worse, you know?"

"True thing, son," he said, patting him on the shoulder. "If you're feelin' all right, I think we can get your clothes back to you and get you on your way."

"Thanks, that'd be great…" Ron mumbled. The pile of clothes he'd been wearing appeared in Jason's arms, but now quite dry and neatly folded.

"Here you go. I'll give you some privacy. I'll see you tomorrow night, Weasley," he said, giving him a little salute and disappearing through the door that housed Malfoy. Taking a deep breath, Ron got up from the chair he'd been in and let all the blankets fall to the floor. The air felt quite cold in comparison, so he got dressed in a hurry. He cast one last disdainful look at the door on the opposite side of the room, hoping Malfoy got whatever the maximum sentence was in Azkaban, before disapparating back to Munich.


	10. The Yuletide Ball

AN: When I wrote this last night, I really thought I'd read it over today and not be happy with it at all, but as it turns out, I didn't really have to tweak it much. Enjoy, loves. Check the blog for photos. **[[ spicysugar368 (dot) tumblr (dot) com ]]**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

_The Yuletide Ball_

* * *

It had been a week, and Harry was still having trouble believing that the arrest Ron had made a week ago was Draco Bleeding Malfoy, in the flesh. Looking back now, it seemed so obvious that Draco Malfoy would be the name that "D.M." would have stood for… but, after all, hindsight was 20/20…

Hermione'd had a fit, he remembered, realizing she was going to have to charm and send a letter to Narcissa Malfoy in the flesh, but she'd done it like a pro and nailed it just like the others. She'd had a bit of a hyperactive conniption when she realized that Ronald Bilius Weasley, her fiancé, was the one responsible for bringing the man all three of them loathed into the hands of the Ministry. Whether she was absolutely thrilled or in a panicked relief that Ron was alive after the ordeal, Harry wasn't sure, but he knew she had to be extremely proud of him.

Hell, Harry was even proud. Ron was out there knocking out the bad guys like it was a cakewalk.

But at the moment, Harry had far more pressing matters to address…

Like his godforsaken, always messy, never-to-be-tamed hair…

"There's just no helping it," he sighed to his mirror, who had been issuing vocal encouragements for the entire half-hour duration that Harry had been attempting to do something even remotely stylish with his hair.

"Well, sir," replied his mirror, "I'm sure the lady will be quite delighted no matter what your hair looks like."

Harry nearly laughed. "Right, because the very person she wants on her arm tonight is me…"

"Friends can appreciate good looks, too," the mirror sang. "You look dashing."

Harry grumbled and fussed with his tie. Since his Yule Ball days at Hogwarts he had bought much nicer and classier dress robes. These were a sleek black with a satin strip running down each side – much like what you'd see on Muggle tuxedo pants. He'd spent the extra cash to get the sort that he could charm the satin strip to change to whatever color he needed – tonight, red. He'd had to go out and buy a special red vest and tie for the occasion, however. Hermione had told him that it was absolutely imperative that they "match." He didn't see the need since they were going as friends, but, Hermione reminded him, he was _escorting her as her date for the evening_, and, therefore, his attire should match hers. She'd told him nothing beyond "red" and had approved the color when he'd showed them to her – so her outfit, whatever it may be, clearly involved red in some way, but that's all he knew.

He was a little frustrated because he knew he'd never be wearing this particular vest and tie ever again, because Ginny certainly never wore red to any formal function – or any function at all – ever, because of her hair. She constantly complained that it "clashed."

Shaking his head at the ways of women and officially giving up on his hair, he stepped out of his bathroom and checked his watch. 6:40. He was due to pick Hermione up at her flat in five minutes. He chuckled a little at the notion of picking a lady up when all one had to do was apparate to one place, then jointly apparate to another place… seemed almost pointless, but still chivalrous, and for an affair as pompous as this one, therefore necessary.

He took a deep breath, stretched his arms, and for the first time acknowledged his nerves regarding the evening. The passionate kiss he and Hermione had shared a week previously was still hot on his mind – much to his dismay – and he had no idea how he'd be able to act properly around her tonight when he was sure she'd look quite pretty and be attached to his arm all night. He felt her Christmas present nervously in the pocket of his robes. He sure hoped she liked it…

He checked his watch again. Three more minutes…

Fuck it, Hermione was always early anyway…

* * *

Hermione was late.

For the first time in her living memory, she was running late.

And she was absolutely panicking.

It was nearly 6:45 and she hadn't even gotten her jewelry on yet because her blessed hair had taken far more time to magic up than she'd expected… She'd been going for a French Twist, but that hadn't ended up working quite right, so she'd had to curl each piece around her wand and put it up in this intricate up-do sort of thing that she wasn't sure looked good at all, but it would simply have to do… and there'd been a few strands of hair she just didn't know what to do with, so she'd curled them and let them hang down and frame her face. She supposed it looked all right… that was the fashion now, wasn't it?

Jewelry, jewelry, jewelry, where had she put it… Oh Merlin, _was that a knock at the door?_

Harry was here… and she wasn't ready… _Shit!_

"Uh, it's open!" she called, waving her wand in the general direction of the door to unlock it. She heard it open and Harry's voice.

"Hermione?"

"Sorry, sorry, I'll be out in just a minute!" Oh, Jesus, the jewelry was right there on the vanity _exactly_ where she'd left it, perched on it's own little washcloth… She was losing her mind… With fumbling fingers she slipped the pearl studs into her ears and gently clasped the string of pearls around her neck. The set had been a gift from her parents for her 21st birthday – because every lady, her mother insisted, had to have a set of good pearls. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath in, then opened her eyes to survey herself in the mirror.

Hair in place… check. Jewelry on… check. Makeup done… check. Just some light shimmering cream colored eye shadow all over her lid and up to her brow bone, a volumizing mascara, a light pink blush, and lips that were the same shade of red as her dress.

Speaking of her dress… she allowed herself a private moment of delight. She'd found it by a miracle, on a clearance rack in a designer store… how it had ever made it to the clearance rack she had no idea, because it was simply stunning, and it was the only one there, and in her size… like it was just waiting for her. It had a simple sweetheart neck… strapless and backless. It was a deep shade of crimson red, hugged her waist tightly, and flowed elegantly in an A-line shape all the way to the floor. She'd only had to pay 30 galleons for it and it had been a 150 galleon gown…

Taking another deep breath and thanking her lucky stars, she stepped gingerly out of the bathroom and into the matching red heels that she (mercifully) had already had in her closet and hadn't had to purchase for the evening.

She was ready.

Finally.

Harry hadn't sat down in the cozy living room because he had a feeling if he made himself comfortable, he'd be at risk for not attending the damned ball at all. Instead, he took to examining his fingernails, straightening and re-straightening his tie, and shifting his weight from foot to foot, all while leaning against Hermione's front door, which directly faced the hallway that lead to the bedrooms. Because he had been staring in a downward direction and generally not paying attention, he had, therefore, been a little startled when he heard Hermione's voice.

"Well?" she asked quietly.

Harry quickly looked up, hadn't having realized she was there…

And was immediately struck speechless.

He thought she'd look pretty this evening. But he'd been wrong.

She was absolutely _stunning_.

Her dress was strapless and showed just enough of her beautiful breasts to jog his memory… it hugged her tightly all the way down, and Harry had to swallow down a gasp.

He also had to desperately control a rapidly growing bulge beneath his robes, and he prayed she didn't notice.

"Well…?" she prodded again.

"I… I… you… Hermione, you're absolutely beautiful… stunningly, wonderfully beautiful…"

Stuttering over your words, Harry. What a gentleman…

But he definitely saw her blush. She most certainly, without a doubt, blushed at his compliment, botched though it may have been.

"You really think so?" she asked, smiling.

"I really know so…" he said, taking a step towards her.

She beamed. "Thank you…" She took a step towards him to match him. "You look quite handsome."

He couldn't help it, he grinned. "Thanks."

She looked so perfectly beautiful that he was almost scared to touch her.

"Shall we?" he offered, holding out his arm to her.

"Certainly," she replied, taking hold of his arm. And in a moment, they had disappeared from Hermione's flat and outside the side of the magnificent Trinity House. They were greeted by a Ministry official in nicer dress robes even than Harry's, who directed them to the second floor into the Quarterdeck for the receiving line, from whence they would go into the Library where hors-d'oeuvres would be served until 8:00, at which point everyone would be dismissed down the grand staircase and into the entrance hall – magically enlarged, he assured them – for dinner.

"Just take hold of this and you'll go straight up to the Quarterdeck," the official said, handing them a quill. No sooner had both of them taken it in their hands than they had appeared at the beginning of the Quarterdeck corridor. At the end, Hermione could see through the open double doors that Ministry guests were already mingling in the library. First, though, they had to go through the receiving line…

They went down the line, greeting each head of the major departments – Simon included – before each of them shook hands with the Minister himself (he gave Harry a particularly firm handshake) and then disappeared into the Library. Immediately they were surrounded by exquisite classical music, which Harry noticed was coming from the balcony of the room, which housed what appeared to be a full chamber orchestra.

He was already overwhelmed. People still hadn't gotten over his fame, his various triumphs over Voldemort, his general good standing with the wizarding community… he was being greeted on all sides and poor Hermione was merely being forced along, occasionally being recognized by a few of Harry's admirer's but on the whole had to remain mostly silent.

Eventually, after Harry and Hermione had each had two glasses of champage offered them by various patrons and had had to turn down what felt like dozens more, they were approached by the Minister himself.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter, such a pleasure and an honor to have you here!"

"Oh, Minister Boulstridge!" Harry said, shaking his hand, somewhat surprised. "It's my pleasure, sir."

"That's a good chap!" the Minister boomed, clapping him on the back. "Now, listen, I have a favor to ask of you."

Hermione tuned in and listened intently.

"You see, Mr. Potter, every year, we ask one couple to have the first dance of the evening. Usually it's a couple who's done the Ministry a lot of favors, someone who's made a significant achievement, something of that sort."

Harry had a bad feeling he knew where this was going.

"Absolutely, sir," he said, encouraging him on.

"Well this year, m'boy, I'd be just delighted if you and your partner – Miss Granger – would take the honor of the first dance. You are, after all, of _significant_ importance to the wizarding world as it stands today!"

Hermione, after recovering from the shock that the Minister even knew her name, had to deal with the shock that she and Harry had just been given an honor they absolutely could not, under any circumstances, refuse.

"Well, Minister, I…" Harry began, but Hermione cut him off.

"Minister, we would be absolutely honored. Thank you for such a wonderful privilege."

"Stellar!" he said, and shook both their hands. "I'll send my assistant over to collect you, she'll tell you what to do."

And he disappeared into the crowd.

"What the bloody hell did you say 'yes' for?" Harry hissed.

"Do you really think you can say 'no' to the Minister of Magic!" Hermione hissed back. "That offer is something not given lightly and it is an _extremely_ high honor that you simply do not refuse! It's like being invited to the captain's table on a cruise!"

Harry stared at her blankly.

"Oh, nevermind," she mumbled. "Just understand that's a really important invitation extended by the minister just before dinner to one lucky couple..."

Harry knew she was right but it didn't make him any happier about it. He'd had to learn how to dance in fourth year but he didn't know if he actually remembered any of it…

"Ah, Mr. Potter and Miss Granger!" came a trilling voice. Hermione looked to her right to see, she could only presume, the secretary to the Minister approaching them.

"Lovely to meet you both," she said, shaking both their hands. "I'm Angela Pruitt, senior undersecretary to the Minister."

"Pleasure," Harry said, while Hermione said "So nice to meet you."

"If you two will just follow me, I'll lead you over here to the Pepys room…"

Harry couldn't even begin to describe how relieved he was to be in the – quite vacant – Pepys room. He had a feeling Hermione felt the same. It was connected to the library and they could here the chatter and banter of the guests through the double doors connecting the rooms, but Angela had closed them.

"So, how are you both this evening?" Angela beamed. Hermione wondered if the woman ever frowned.

"Lovely," Hermione answered.

"Just wonderful!" Angela replied. "Now, the guests will be dismissed downstairs for dinner in ten minutes. The dancing doesn't officially start until all the plates have been cleared, but it's the job of you two to technically 'open the dance floor,' so to speak."

"Right," Harry said. He feared he sounded terribly uneducated.

"Once everyone is in their seats, you will be announced, and Mr. Potter, you will lead Ms. Granger down the grand staircase into the entrance hall and begin your dance. Do you have any requests for a particular song?"

Harry had the sudden urge to request a particularly wild song by the Weird Sisters, just to see Angela's reaction, but decided against it.

"A waltz, perhaps?" Hermione supplied. "Harry and I both have taken waltz lessons."

_Nevermind that they were seven bloody years ago…_ Harry found himself thinking.

"I can let you have a practice run, if you like," Angela offered. "I have a few recorded tracks I can play so you two can warm up."

"That sounds perfect," Hermione breathed, relieved. Harry didn't think fifteen minutes of "practice" would help him much, but it was better than nothing.

"Here, let's start off with something slow," Angela said, and waved her wand. A slow, easy waltz began playing, and Harry and Hermione looked at each other.

"Remember how to waltz?" Hermione asked uneasily.

"Vaguely…" Harry answered.

"Right…" Hermione said. They came together, her right hand in his left, her left hand on his right shoulder, and his right hand on her waist. "So, for you, it's forward, over together, and for me, it's back, over, together…" she explained, guiding their feet as she said each one.

* * *

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to extend a most warm welcome to all of you on this lovely Christmas Eve," came the Minister's voice. All the guests were seated… except Harry and Hermione, who were waiting just out of sight at the top of the grand staircase.

"I hope everyone has had a most enjoyable time so far!" the Minister continued. "Dinner will be served momentarily, and after that our dance floor will be officially opened, but before that occurs we, of course, have to have our honored first dance!"

Harry and Hermione heard mild applause.

"I am exceptionally pleased to introduce to you tonight as our first dance couple, the lovely Hermione Jean Granger, escorted by none other than Harry James Potter!" the Minister concluded, and this was followed by raucous applause.

"That's your cue," Angela whispered with a smile, and waved her wand to start the introductory chords of the music. They'd opted for a mild waltz… not too slow, but not so fast that they'd get tired out or lose coordination.

Hermione took a deep breath and looked up at Harry.

"Ready?"

"No, but looks like I don't have a choice," he replied, but he was smiling.

"All right then…" she whispered, and they took their steps down the magnificent curved staircase. Her arm was linked with Harry's, as was protocol, and when their full bodies came into view, all the guests cheered.

Hermione couldn't believe how many people were there. Three hundred, five hundred, seven hundred… she wasn't sure. Before she knew it they were on the dance floor in the very center of all those people. Harry gently twirled her until she was facing him and they got into position. She took a deep breath, counted the beat, and once Harry led her into the rhythm of the music, she relaxed and looked up into his eyes.

And that would be her undoing.

As soon as her chocolate brown eyes met his emerald green ones, she knew there would be no looking away. It was like the ocean greeting the sand… you simply couldn't part them.

He smiled down at her knowingly as he led her in the waltz. No one there could have guessed that just fifteen minutes previously they'd been struggling over each other's feet in the room upstairs… their movements flowed together like water, smooth as glass… he led her beautifully and she followed perfectly.

A rise came in the music and suddenly Hermione was spinning outward as he thrust her into a spin. She came back into his arms beaming and he smiled wider.

"Having fun?" he whispered.

"Of course," she replied.

Hermione wouldn't have known they were surrounded by hundreds of people. It was just she and Harry, alone on this massive dance floor, spinning and twirling together like they were one… She never wanted it to end, it was so perfect, so wonderful, such an innocent feeling…

Yet, she thought, as she came back from another spin, so passionate… so deep… she could look into those green eyes forever…

"Almost done," Harry whispered. Hermione almost whined in disappointment. She let herself get lost in those last few moments, spinning and twirling all alone on that dance floor with Harry…

She heard the music slow and felt herself going backward… Harry was leaning her into a deep dip at the close of the song. She arched her back and let herself fall, trusting him to hold her as he leaned over her and held the pose until the music fully stopped.

And then… the applause began.

Harry was beaming as he brought her back into a standing position. He brought her close to him and she laid her head against his chest.

"You were wonderful, Miss Granger," he whispered.

"So were you, Mr. Potter." She paused. "We should bow…"

"Right," he whispered back, and he released her. With her right hand clasped in his left, he bowed and she curtsied to the audience, and Hermione was on such a high that she thought she might never come down from it.

"I don't think I've ever seen a first dance so _beautifully _executed!" said the Minister, walking up to them. "Truly beautiful job, just wonderful, both of you," he continued, shaking their hands. "You may sit, and you will be served dinner first."

He showed them to a table right next to the dance floor that had two empty chairs with name cards stating their names by them.

"Absolutely wonderful display of dancing," one of the older ladies cooed. "How long have you two been together?"

Hermione started a little in surprise. "Oh, well, um, we… actually, we're just friends…"

The older lady laughed out loud. "Oh, sure, dear. You keep telling yourself that. No couple with that much chemistry is 'just friends.' You mark my words!"

Hermione shared a nervous glance with Harry, but their food was placed in front of them just then, and they were both far too hungry to worry about the woman's tactlessness.

* * *

At eleven thirty that night, they both appeared back in Hermione's flat.

"Thank God that's over," Hermione muttered.

"You're telling me," Harry agreed. "Those old witches at dinner were driving me batty."

"I could have hit that one woman…" Hermione grumbled.

"But how about that first dance, huh?" Harry asked, smiling at her.

She smiled back, she couldn't help it. "It was quite magical. I'm so happy I got to share that with you."

"Me, too," Harry replied. He checked his watch. "I know it's not quite Christmas yet, but… I wanted to give you your present tonight," he finished quietly.

"Oh, Harry, no, wait till tomorrow…" she said, but her heart rate naturally quickened with anticipation.

"No, I want you to have it now," Harry insisted. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a long black velvet box and handed it to her. She took it gently, staring at it, then looking back up at Harry.

"Harry… what…"

"Just open it."

She furrowed her brow, then looked down at the box, bit her lip, and slowly lifted the lid.

Inside was the sapphire and diamond bracelet she'd been coveting in the jewelry store that day when they'd gone shopping together.

She gasped.

"Harry! Oh, Harry, I… I don't know what to say… I… you shouldn't have done this… it's just… oh my goodness what can I say…"

"'Thank you' might be a good place to start," Harry supplied with a smile.

"I… oh, Harry, thank you… I just… I don't even know how to thank you for this…"

Harry gently took the box from her hands and set it on the nearby dining room table, then took Hermione in his arms.

He couldn't take it any more. She was so beautiful, so perfect, so brilliantly wonderful… he couldn't hold back anymore. He wanted her. All of her. Tonight.

"Harry…" she whispered.

"You said you didn't know how to thank me," Harry said quietly. "How about this…" he whispered. And without another word, he leaned down and captured her lips in his.


	11. Happy Christmas

AN: Yes, here it is... finally... I hope it lives up to the standards the long wait demanded... I'm deeply sorry. Really, I am. No promises on chapter 12 - it WILL come, but how soon, I'm not sure...

* * *

**Chapter 11**

_Happy Christmas_

* * *

Hermione had no idea what was happening.

Actually, no, scratch that, she knew _exactly_ what was happening, she just didn't know how to process it…

Harry James Potter was currently kissing her…

And, she realized, that was very, _very_ bad…

"Harry…" she mumbled, pulling away from him and placing a hand on his chest.

She could see the hurt and confusion in his eyes, but why in the bloody hell was he confused when he knew perfectly well they were quite definitely _off limits to each other…_

"Hermione…" he groaned.

"Harry, you can't. We can't. You know we can't."

"Hemione," he said again. "If it's so wrong, tell me why it feels so right…"

She bit her lip, not wanting to admit that it _did_ feel so right… just like it had felt so right to be in his arms on that dance floor tonight, just like it had felt right by the fire that night in the woods…

But, damn it all, she was _engaged_ and _so was he_…

She couldn't form words. There was nothing she could say besides the truth…

"Hermione…"

"Harry, I love Ron."

"And I love Ginny."

"Then why are we – you – doing this!" she exclaimed.

"You tell me," Harry shot back. "Or was it just me that saw more than common interest in your eyes on that dance floor tonight."

Hermione fell silent.

She'd be a fool to deny it, because when her eyes met his while they were dancing she felt so electrically charged that she didn't even feel like she was on earth any more.

She hadn't realized Harry had picked up on the fire in her eyes, though…

"I'm not stupid, Hermione," Harry said, his voice softening. "A little thick, sometimes, but I know what it means when a woman looks at me the way you did tonight…"

Hermione's gaze dropped to the floor. The tension in the air – both sexual and otherwise – was so thick you could have cut it.

"Hermione," Harry said softly, cupping her chin in his hand and bringing her head up so she was looking at him, "We can't keep holding back. We're driving ourselves crazy…"

Every logical facet in her brain fought him. Even her heart was making a few feeble attempts, though it seemed a little confused.

But god damn, it was so hard to fight those beautiful green eyes… she couldn't help but remember the way they'd bored into hers that night by the fire, when the two of them became one for just one night…

She felt warmth between her legs at the very thought and her defenses weakened.

Considerably.

"Harry…" she whispered, and she felt her knees starting to buckle, as if her whole body was giving in. "Oh, Harry…"

Her eyes never left his until the very moment he brought his lips to hers again and this time she did not resist as her eyes fluttered closed.

A jolt of electricity shot down her spine from the moment their lips touched. They started cautiously, tenderly… he gently cradled her neck in his hands, their lips barely brushing over and over again, then, suddenly, his tongue teased her lips. She let him in without a second thought and let the kiss go deeper, enjoying every moment of his tongue on hers – until, suddenly, he left her lips, only to leave a trail of light kisses down her jawline before landing at her neck. She moaned as he placed kisses all over her neck, nibbling at her skin and then bringing his lips to her exposed shoulders and collarbones.

Her whole body tingled. "Mmm, Harry…" she whispered. He quickly brought his mouth back to hers and kissed her deeply.

"Make love to me tonight…" he whispered against her lips.

She tensed.

"Harry, I…"

He bent down to kiss at her neck again. "That night four years ago still burns in my mind every day," he murmured. "I want to go back to that night…"

His lips were doing tantalizing things to her skin, all of which were scrambling her mental thought processes.

"Oh, Harry, I wish we could go back, too…"

He brought his mouth up to her ear and nibbled at it.

"We can go back, Hermione… tonight, we can go back…"

She whimpered when he bit at her earlobe. She wanted him, she wanted him _so_ badly… She knew it was wrong, but _God_ it felt so right…

He kissed her deeply again and after how readily she responded she knew she'd be a fool to deny how deeply she wanted – needed – him right then.

"Harry, Harry…" she whispered against his lips. "I want it, I want _you_…"

"I want you too," he sighed back, and in a moment they were standing in her bedroom. Hermione jumped a little.

"I hardly think apparition was necessary for a fifteen step walking distance…" she said softly, holding back a giggle.

"I couldn't wait that long," Harry breathed. His eyes caught hers and held them as he shrugged off his dress robes onto the floor, leaving him in slacks, a white shirt, and the red vest and tie.

Plus his damn dress shoes…

He pulled a face and then bent over to untie them and get them off. He heard Hermione's shoes clack off her feet next to him.

Smiling slightly, he stood back up and took Hermione in his arms, capturing her in a kiss immediately. His hand roamed to her hair, which he found to be frustratingly inaccessible due to her complicated up-do.

Hermione giggled, then noticed his wand sticking out of his right pocket. She tugged it out and pointed it at her hair.

"_Finite Incantatem_," she whispered. As she placed Harry's wand back in his pocket, her hair fell out of the intricate style and fell about her shoulders in beautiful waves.

"Hermione, you're so gorgeous…" he whispered, before kissing her again and taking her hair in his right hand and pulling her closer around her waist with his left. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back deeply, letting their tongues dance together, sighing with him, moaning with him.

Not breaking the kiss, she moved her hands to his vest, unbuttoning it and letting it slide off his shoulders. She then immediately went for his tie, fumbling with the knot until she got it undone and she slid that through his collar and let it, too, drop to the floor.

"In a rush?" Harry asked when her fingers worked at the buttons on his shirt.

"I want you, Harry…" she said back, glancing up to meet his eyes. "I don't want to change my mind."

"Yes, ma'am…" he murmured as he shrugged off his shirt. He pulled his undershirt over his head and tossed it to the floor as she worked at his belt buckle.

He couldn't believe it was happening this fast.

And she was still totally covered, while he'd be in nothing but his boxers within the next few seconds…

Oh wait, make that now, he thought, as his dress slacks pooled at his ankles. He chuckled lightly and stepped out of them. He was almost surprised she didn't go for his boxers too but didn't complain when she threw herself into him for another deep kiss. He wrapped his arms around her, one on her back and the other in her hair, kissing her fiercely while her hands tangled in his hair. Slyly, he reached for the zipper on the back of her dress and slowly pulled it down, letting his fingers brush against her bum as he let go of the zipper.

He didn't break the kiss, but he felt her dress slide down her body and she moaned into him as she stepped out of it and pressed herself to him. She hadn't been wearing a bra, Harry realized, as he felt her nipples – already hard – pressing against his bare chest.

He felt himself get even harder and pulled away from the kiss to sweep Hermione into his arms. She gasped but he quickly laid her down on the bed and got on top of her, kissing her even more passionately, letting his lips wander to her neck, her collarbones, her chest…

"Oh, Harry…" she moaned as he took one of her nipples in his mouth. He licked and suckled at it, pinching the other between his fingers. She writhed beneath him in pleasure and almost didn't notice as his hand sneaked down her side and began tugging at her thong – red lace, to match the dress.

"May I?" he whispered against her skin.

"You may…" she breathed, and he gently pulled the tiny bit of fabric all the way to her ankles, where she kicked it off lightly.

Quite suddenly, she realized she was completely naked.

Underneath her best friend.

Her heart rate quickened a little but he slowed it with a gentle kiss. He hadn't picked up on her hesitance but he kissed her deeply, making her forget the worries that had started to form.

And she really forgot them all together as soon as two of his fingers found their way between her legs…

"Mmmm, Harry…" she breathed into the kiss, as he lightly played with her folds. His hands were calloused and she loved the slightly rough feeling of his fingers as he rubbed her clit. He teased at her entrance, circling it with his middle finger, until she was shaking with anticipation.

"Oh, Harry, please, just… just do it…" she whispered. He smirked, but she couldn't see it since her eyes were closed.

"Yes ma'am," he replied, and slowly slid one finger inside her.

She moaned and bucked her hips toward him in response. It felt like it had been months, years even, since Ron had left and she'd been touched this way…

A brief battle ensued in her head at the mention of Ron, during which she must have stopped responding to Harry's touch as readily. Just as her sex-enthused, passionate side won the argument, she heard Harry's voice.

"Hermione, are you all right?" he asked, slowing his hand.

"Harry, I'm absolutely wonderful…" she gushed quietly. "Why did you stop…"

"Just making sure you're okay," he replied, smiling – a little nervously, she thought. Then, abruptly, he started up his fingers again, except now… he was using his index finger, too.

"Oh, dear God, Harry…"

He leaned down and kissed her when he started rubbing her clit with his thumb while he fingered her. She bucked beneath him again and clawed at his hair, kissing him back fiercely. Her head was spinning, she was seeing every different color, her heart was racing…

"Oh, Harry, oh yes… please, please don't stop…" she cried as she felt an orgasm building within her. As requested, he didn't stop – but he did get faster and all at once she felt herself lose control of her body as her orgasm took control of every nerve ending. She grabbed at the bedcover in an attempt to steady herself as the vibrations wracked her body and she felt herself contracting around his fingers. She yelped in pleasure as she came down from the high and then pulled Harry into a kiss. He removed his fingers, using that hand to caress her breast while the other supported himself beside her head while he kissed her.

She could feel her own wetness on his fingers as they slid across her skin and, oddly, it turned her on.

"It's no fair that I'm naked and you're not," she cooed, when he broke the kiss. He chuckled and she reached down to his boxers and tugged at them. He helped them off his hips, then shimmied them down to his ankles, where he kicked them to the floor.

"Much better," she breathed, but her breath caught when her eyes met the sight of his – very hard – cock. It was bigger than she remembered – bigger than Ron, anyway (she mentally cursed herself for thinking of Ron again) – had that really been what took her virginity? No wonder it had hurt… or had he grown since then…

"Hermione," he said, breaking her thoughts.

"Yes, Harry…" she whispered, looking into his eyes.

"I want you," he whispered back, and kissed her again. She kissed back and let one hand wander down between his legs, where she gripped him firmly and started stroking him slowly. He almost growled in response and deepened the kiss, groping at her breasts with need. She moaned into him when he pinched and twisted at her nipples while he kissed her. An even louder moan escaped her lips when he moved his mouth to her neck, and then to her collarbones, nibbling at them…

And then down to her chest, where he suckled each nipple, before kissing his way down her stomach…

Oh dear God, she had a feeling she knew what he was going to do… She gasped when she felt his breath at her center, the warm air teasing at her. That night by the fire they hadn't done really any experimentation with oral…

"Oh, God, Harry," she cooed when he gave her a slow lick. He chuckled and licked at her again. Shivers took over her body with each lap of his tongue and she clutched at the sheets to keep her composure at least somewhat in check as he got faster, more desperate, licking and sucking every bit of her most intimate parts…

Suddenly, she felt one of his fingers slip inside her while he lapped at her, and she bucked into him in response and moaned loudly. He only got faster and her body writhed in pleasure at his ministrations. Before she knew it she had passed that blessed point of no return and felt yet another orgasm wrack her body.

This time, she screamed.

He kept licking at her and fingering her until she'd ridden it out as long as she could. She was panting as he slowly removed himself from between her legs and brought his face up to hers, kissing her gently.

She could taste herself on his lips and kissed him back greedily, searching his mouth for more of herself. Harry pulled away breathlessly after a few moments.

"Have to say I never pegged you as one to… well…"

"Like the taste of myself?" she supplied, smiling shyly.

"Yeah," he admitted. She giggled a little nervously. They were so close, so intimate… yet she felt so comfortable…

"Hey, lay on your back," she suggested, smiling up at him. He looked at her quizzically. She laughed. "Just do it," she said, and kissed him. She wiggled out from underneath him and he took her place, lying on his back on the bed. Seconds later she was straddling him and kissing him passionately. He seemed surprised until she started trailing kissing down his collarbones and chest, working her way down until she paused between his legs and she placed light kisses along the length of his cock.

Harry shuddered in anticipation.

Not one to make anyone wait, Hermione wasted no time in taking him deep into her mouth. She glanced up at him through her eyelashes in time to see him throw his head back as he moaned and she smirked to herself as she let her mouth travel up and down his cock, slowly at first, then getting faster. Hermione looked up at him again briefly in time to see him grab at the headboard as she got even faster. She nibbled softly at the tip, then massaged him with her tongue. His deep, throaty moans were turning her on and she wanted him inside of her – desperately. She crawled up so she was straddling him again and looked deep into his eyes.

"Harry. I want you. I want you, now. Right now," she pleaded.

"That makes two of us…" he whispered, and pushed his hips upward a little so that his cock teased at her entrance. She sighed with desire and leaned down and kissed him as she centered herself overtop of him and – slowly, steadily – slid herself all the way down onto his cock until he was buried inside her to the hilt.

Harry's eyes appeared to nearly roll back in his head as he let out a long, slow breath of relief.

"Good?" she asked, unsure, not moving.

"Hermione… you have no idea…" he said, and jerked his hips upward. She yelped in pleasure and leaned down to kiss him. He took the opportunity to thrust into her again and again, making her moan louder and louder into his mouth. Soon she buried her face in his shoulder, kissing and biting at every space of skin she could reach as he took her to places of pleasure she'd never dreamed were possible…

Until he sat up…

She sat on her knees, still on top of him and with him still inside her, as he cradled her face in one hand and buried the other in her hair, kissing her.

"Ride me…" he whispered.

Well, this was new…

She ground her hips into him experimentally and had to blink her eyes repeatedly to keep them focused. He growled softly and lightly bit at her shoulder, then lowered his head to suckle at her nipples.

"Keep going," he said. She did as he asked and couldn't believe how different – how amazing – it felt, to ride him this way. He was buried deep into her and in this position, no matter how she moved, every single motion made him hit her G-spot. She clutched at his hair, dug her nails into his shoulders, as she couldn't help but to get faster and faster… Her breathing was getting faster and so was his, their sounds of pleasure mingling together as they both neared release.

"Harry, Harry, oh God Harry, I'm going to come, I'm going to come…" she breathed between shrieks of pleasure.

When he lifted his hips up off the bed, he went – if possible – even deeper inside her, and Hermione felt herself come undone. She screamed his name as she came – she closed her eyes in ecstasy and saw lights flashing before her unseeing eyes. Pleasure such as she had never felt before raced through her body, through her very veins into the core of her being as she rode him harder, faster, desperate to keep the amazing feeling alive as long as possible.

"Hermione, don't stop – oh, God…" Harry moaned. "Shit, I'm going to come…"

Hermione took this as encouragement and sped up even more – determined to ride out the last of her orgasm and to get his started. A few moments later she got her wish as he yelled out her name and pulled her down on top of him as he laid back down, thrusting into her so hard and fast she could hardly see as he finished inside of her. Soon, he slowed down and eventually stopped, leaving them both gasping for air and neither of them wanting to move.

"That… was so fantastic…" she breathed, her stomach pressed to his and her head resting on his shoulder.

"You're telling me…" he whispered back. He looked over at her and kissed her on the forehead, then looked past her to see that her bedside clock revealed that it was now, officially, Christmas.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione," he said quietly, rubbing her back. She sighed, slowly lifting herself off of him and settling next to him, snuggling into his warmth.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," she replied, in barely more than a whisper as her tiredness threatened to overtake her.

He was drifting off too, she could hear his breathing getting slower, deeper…

She slipped into sleep before she realized it, but dreaming of sugar plum fairies she was sure she would not…


	12. The Daily Prophet

AN: How amazing is that, a quick update... :) hopefully I'll continue going at this pace... This story is likely going to be longer than my other full-lengths, so bear with me through the end!

* * *

**Chapter 12**

_The Daily Prophet_

* * *

Warmth was the first thing she felt as her conscious mind slowly stirred awake. Sweet, snuggly, muscled warmth…

Wait, muscled?

She squirmed a little, stretching as she half-opened her eyes and scooted closer to the warm body besides her.

The warm, _naked_ body beside her…

Wait a moment…

"Harry?" she murmured, opening her eyes fully and looking up at him – for her head was nestled snugly into the crook of his shoulder. He slept on, mouth slightly open, head turned opposite her, toward her clock.

Suddenly, she became aware that not only was he naked, but so was she.

And the previous night came rushing back in a great swoop. If she'd been standing, it would have knocked her off her feet. Since she was lying in bed, instead she just gasped rather loudly.

"Harry!" she yelped, then immediately regretted it, because he began to stir and she realized she was still quite naked and lying next to him. Embarrassed, she jumped out of the bed and dashed to the bathroom adjoining her bedroom, throwing on a white plush knee-length robe. By the time Harry managed to open his eyes, she was fully covered.

"Mm, Hermione, whassamatter…" he grumbled, looking over at her through sleepy eyes.

She stood, three feet from the bed, arms crossed and attempting to look as dignified as possible.

A rather difficult task in a fluffy white robe, but she thought she was managing pretty well…

"Harry, do you have _any_ idea what happened last night?" she demanded, getting right to the point. Harry rubbed his eyes and shook his head to clear it, then looked at her again.

"Unless it was a dream, yeah, I'm pretty sure I know…" he said.

_Why was he so damned difficult!_

"Harry, this a huge problem!"

"Did you not enjoy yourself?"

"I—" she hesitated. "Well, I mean, of course I did, but that's not the point…"

"It's absolutely the point," said Harry, sitting up in her bed and swinging his legs off the side. The blanket just barely covered his lap and she tried to control the wetness between her legs…

Which, she suddenly realized, was not her own arousal, but his semen from the night before being affected by the pull of gravity and seeping out of her and down her leg…

"Oh, Christ, I'll be right back…" she mumbled, and dashed into the bathroom to wash off.

Harry looked after her quizzically, then ran a hand through his hair and sighed deeply. He knew she was right to be concerned, but he'd had far too much fun and he didn't want to let that feeling wear off just yet… He grunted as the word "CHEATER" flashed across his brain and shoved the thought away. It was bloody Christmas and he wasn't going to let it be ruined by his damn head.

The sound of a shower running got his attention, and he lifted his head to stare curiously at the bathroom door.

He really shouldn't, but…

Hermione stood under the steaming hot water, hands in her hair and eyes closed, trying to wrap her mind around what had happened. She felt bad for leaving Harry out there alone – but then again, maybe he'd take advantage of her extended absence and get the hell out of there… they needed to talk about this but God she didn't want to do it now… not on Christmas…

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a pair of calloused hands on her shoulders. She whipped around, her wet hair splattering him with water.

"_Harry!_" she cried, unable to move.

"Hey," he said smoothly. He pushed a stray strand of dripping hair out of her face and pulled her closer to him.

"Harry, I'm not wearing anything…" she mumbled, trying to cover herself.

"Tends to happen when people shower," Harry smiled. His pure ability to make light of her distress infuriated her.

"If you don't get out of this bathroom _right this very second…_"

"What?" he asked. "Going to curse me without a wand?" he joked.

Her heart absolutely pounded in frustration.

Or was it excitement?

The water was splashing off of her onto him, making his muscled chest glisten. His hair was starting to get wet and it was dripping down his face. His eyes were practically sparkling at her – or maybe that was just the light…

"Might I say," Harry said, breaking into her thoughts, "you look absolutely splendid naked and wet…"

She'd said "So you do" before she could help herself and she swallowed hard. He just smirked a little before pulling her in for a kiss under the stream of water. Her mental defenses crumbled helplessly as she kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him closer. He pushed her against the shower wall and kept kissing her as he thrust a finger inside of her. She squealed in pleasure and moaned as she broke away from the kiss, loving the feeling of the water pounding down on her skin as he pleasured her. Her eyes had closed in ecstasy but they shot open when she felt his tongue dip into her folds as he fingered her – he'd knelt down on the shower floor. The water was washing over his whole body now and she almost couldn't get over how incredibly sexy he looked, wet and steaming, totally naked, and with his lips buried between her legs. Just when she thought she might orgasm from the feeling he stood up and kissed her fiercely, then lifted her off the shower floor.

"Wrap your legs around me," he said. She did as he said and immediately felt his raging erection pressing against her. Had he really gotten hard that fast, or had he woken up with it? She wondered – thoughts quickly cast aside when he managed to slide inside of her.

"_OhmyGod_," she breathed all in one word, clutching at his shoulders. She kissed him wildly as he thrust into her – she couldn't imagine how he was managing to stand, thrust, and support her weight all at the same time, but he was sure as hell doing a fantastic job of it. She began to move with him and met each thrust with her hips, her body nearly convulsing with the sheer pleasure of feeling him inside of her so deeply combined with the heat of the water falling over both of them. Before she knew it she felt her inner walls tightening and felt blessed, amazing release – not a second later he shoved her against the shower wall and pressed her there as he gave a few last thrusts inside of her as he, too, finished.

Panting, he released her and she let her feet slowly slide to the floor, steadying herself against the wall as she regained her composure. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing back the loose wet strands from his face. Staring at her gloriously naked body was irresistible, he thought, as she leaned against the wall, eyes closed and face turned heavenward, her breasts moving up and down as she gasped for air. He reached out and pinched one of her nipples, causing her eyes to open and stare at him. Before she could protest, he leaned over and took the same nipple gently in his mouth, swirling it with his tongue before coming up and giving her a slow kiss.

She kissed him back, guiltily enjoying the feeling, before placing a hand on his chest and slightly pushing him away.

"We should probably think about getting dressed…" she mumbled. He noticed that she wouldn't meet his eyes and that bothered him. A lot.

"Hermione…" he started, but she'd already turned off the water and was outside the shower drying off. Before he could even step out she was already wrapped back up in her same white fluffy robe. She tossed a white towel at him as he emerged from the shower and then she left the room in a hurry.

Christ, now he'd really done it…

He watched the door close with a heavy heart and speedily dried himself off, wrapping the towel around his waist and walking out of the bathroom to find Hermione finishing up dressing. She was pulling a deep red sweater over her head as he closed the bathroom door behind him.

"I'm expected at my parents' for Christmas breakfast," she said softly. "And I'm sure Ginny is waiting for you to join the family at her aunt's."

"Hermione, I…"

"Not now," she cut him off. "Not on Christmas."

He sighed.

"We will talk about this, Harry. We have to. But not today."

"You're right…" he started.

"I know I am," she finished. "I'm already a half hour late to my parents' place. I'm spending the whole day there. I'm going to head out. All the doors are locked so you can just apparate out."

He didn't even have a chance to reply before she disappeared.

"God dammit," he muttered. The towel dropped to the floor and he hurriedly threw own his boxers, slacks, and shirt from the night before. Deciding to be considerate, he picked the towel up off the bathroom floor and hung it over her shower curtain rod before gathering the remnants of his clothes and his wand and apparating back to his own place to clean up before heading over to see Ginny.

* * *

Mercifully, Robertson hadn't scheduled any deals for Christmas day. Ron was relieved at the notion that even illegal potions dealers took holidays off. As it was he had made a particularly nasty arrest the night before of a bloke who'd been slated to buy a hundred fifty galleons worth of potions – among them, _Subigo_. Ron shuddered to think whom that particular potion may have been intended for and was glad that the poor thing would now not be receiving a very unwelcome Christmas gift.

He had returned home at midnight and collapsed on his bed, thinking longingly of Hermione attending the annual Christmas Eve Ball that the Ministry hosted every year. She had written him earlier in the week and told him that she and Harry had decided to go together as friends, so that neither of them would have to be alone. He'd felt just a twinge of jealousy, but he knew Hermione was deeply in love with him and would never leave him for Harry, just like Harry wouldn't dream of losing Ginny. So he brushed the feeling off and fell into a fitful sleep, not looking forward to spending Christmas Day alone.

He forced himself out of bed when he heard the faint "tap-tap-tap" of Michelo at the sliding glass door of the dingy apartment, bringing him the morning's Daily Prophet as usual. It was an English paper but he'd arranged shortly after arriving to have Michelo bring it to him each day in Munich. He'd thought about subscribing to the German wizarding paper, but quickly decided that would be a fruitless effort since he didn't know much German and didn't have any good translation spells handy in his knowledge.

Bracing himself against the cold air, he opened the sliding glass door and let Michelo fly inside, where he dropped the paper on the coffee table and took his usual perch atop the television, falling asleep almost immediately.

"Poor bloke," Ron said aloud, staring at the tired bird for a moment before picking the paper up off the table and untying the twine from around it. As it was Christmas, the large Old English printed title was adorned with colored Christmas ornaments and candles that flickered merrily. It gave Ron a small smile to know that even the newspapers knew how to have fun, but his stomach turned to ice when he unfolded it and saw the photo on the front page – in bright color and boldly captioned.

**_DYNAMIC DANCING DUO AWES THE CROWD_**

_Harry Potter and his partner Hermione Granger took the stage last night for the traditional first dance at the annual Ministry of Magic Yuletide Ball. Ministry officials and guests alike were awed at their fantastic chemistry and grace on the dance floor. Get the full report of all that happened at the Ball on Page 3._

The glistening moving photo below the title that took up almost the entire front page showed what appeared to the very end of the dance – Harry spinning Hermione out, bringing her back in, and lowering her into a deep dip. They were staring into each other's eyes – which, Ron reminded himself, dance partners were supposed to do – but seeing it played over and over again in a loop when he hadn't been expecting it made his stomach turn in several directions that made him extremely uncomfortable.

He couldn't help but to notice how absolutely stunning Hermione looked… her red dress was gorgeous and she looked amazing in it. Harry was lucky to have her on his arm, that's for sure… he even looked rather dashing in his dress robes. He'd always envied those robes – he'd never had the money to buy anything that nice – but then again, he reminded himself, that damn annual Yuletide Ball was the only reason he ever wore his modestly inexpensive (but mildly classy) dress robes.

Briefly, Ron had the fleeting wonder of if Hermione would have told him she and Harry had been asked to have the first dance if it hadn't been printed on the front of the Daily… He shook the thought away. Of course she would. He'd probably be getting an owl today that she wrote him from her parents' kitchen table gushing all about it… After all, he knew having the first dance at the ball was a high honor, and she and Harry had gone as friends, so it hadn't been a romantic display.

Right?

Sighing in frustration at his confusing thoughts, he opened the paper to page three to read more about the encounter… Surely he was only doubting Hermione's fidelity this much because he hadn't seen her in a while…

He skimmed the article, not caring much for the ways of the uppity Ministry officials that attended the ball, and found the brief snippet on the first dance.

_The customary first dance took place just before dinner. Every year, the Minister of Magic is given the duty of seeking out one person who has vastly contributed to the goodwill of the general public and the Ministry in the past and asking that person and their partner to share the first dance of the evening._

_Minister Boulstridge was more than pleased to see that Hermione Granger, a well-known and bright entry-level Auror, had been escorted to the Ball by none other than Harry Potter, who is well known for his triumphant defeat of the Dark Lord several years ago. Potter, as an adjunct Auror, had never before been required to attend the Ball and so the Minister was delighted to see he was in attendance this year and happily asked the couple to share the first dance together._

_The young couple executed their chosen waltz beautifully and had to repeatedly turn away questions asking if they were "together." They insisted they attended the Ball as "just friends" – Potter is known to be engaged to a former classmate (though the details of their wedding are being kept tightly under wraps) and Granger repeatedly gave mention to her "fiancé," though she never named him._

The article went on to talk about what was served for dinner and various awards that were given during the Ball but he didn't care to know about any of it. He'd read what he needed and it had made him feel slightly better. It had irked him slightly that the paper gave Harry roaring praise but merely mentioned Hermione has an entry-level Auror, rather than the person without whose intelligence Harry never could have defeated Voldemort… but Harry had been followed around by fame since his first birthday. He and Hermione had merely bumbled along behind. He smiled when he saw that Hermione had talked about him so much and made it clear she was engaged – though it made him sad to know she had never mentioned his name, he knew that was simply protocol. Inter-office relationships were technically prohibited – Simon merely looked over theirs as if it weren't happening because he wanted them on his team so badly.

Shaking his head, he tossed the rest of the paper aside, not needing to see any further news from England. He was so immersed in Germany that he almost forgot he actually lived in England and this was only his temporary home.

* * *

"Harry, darling…" Ginny called from the kitchen of her Aunt Muriel's home.

Harry looked up from his conversation with Mr. Weasley as Ginny stepped into the room, holding the Daily Prophet for Christmas Day in her hand.

"Yes, Ginny?" Harry asked, curious.

"Why didn't you tell me you were asked to perform the first dance at the Yuletide Ball last night?"

And with a great sweeping motion she unfolded the front page of the Daily Prophet for all to see – which included most of the members of Ginny's family – and Harry stared in amazement as he watched himself dance with Hermione in a rolling loop. Gasps of awe filled the room.

It was very hard to tell if Ginny was awed, proud, or angry… so he decided to tread carefully.

"I didn't think it was all that big of a deal…" he said. "I'm rather awful at waltzing anyway…"

"Not according to this article!" Ginny said slyly, and Harry noticed with relief that she was smiling.

"Good God, what does it say…" Harry started, but Ginny had already started reading aloud.

"The young couple executed their chosen waltz beautifully and had to repeatedly turn away questions asking if they were 'together.' They insisted they attended the Ball as 'just friends'…"

"Which we did," Harry cut in.

"It goes on to gush about our engagement and how we aren't telling anyone anything and mentions that Hermione repeatedly talked about her nameless fiancé…"

"Nameless?" asked Harry.

"Said she didn't mention his name. Probably because she's not allowed to be banging a coworker," Ginny giggled.

"Ginny!" said her mother. "That is not at all appropriate…"

"But it's true!" Ginny said, defending herself. She giggled and sat down next to Harry, plopping the paper in his lap. "Read for yourself if you like," she said.

Harry's stomach squirmed nervously as he looked at the moving photo and remembered what had happened about four hours after it had been taken.

"No thanks, no need to read about what I already know," he chuckled, and placed the paper on a nearby table.

"Well congratulations on receiving such an honor, Harry," said Mr. Weasley. "I never attend that blasted thing, too much hullabaloo for me… someone else from the office always goes, so I never need to."

"I have to say neither Hermione nor I were excited about the prospect of going," laughed Harry. "We had almost resorted to a duel to decide who would go alone before we figured it was just easier to go together."

Harry looked over at Ginny, taking her hand. "Of course, I would much rather have gone with you, but someone had family obligations…" he teased.

Ginny slapped him on the arm playfully. "It's my last Christmas at home, give me a break," she said. "I'll go with you next year. Maybe by then you'll be full time and not just an adjunct!"

"Hey! I'm an adjunct because I choose to be!" Harry retorted, but he smiled anyway.

"Well, either way, great job with aweing the entire Ministry," Ginny said, and Harry knew she was being sincere.

"Thanks," he said, eager to get away from the topic of last night. And this morning. He shifted in his seat guiltily as he remembered making passionate love to his best friend not once but twice in twelve hours. No one knew about what happened in the tent that night four years ago, and no one had to know about last night and this morning either, Harry decided. And that was that.

"So, Mrs. Weasley, when's dinner?" Harry asked, glancing toward the kitchen and praying that his brain would stay the hell away from all thoughts of Hermione for the rest of the day.

* * *

When Hermione had arrived on the doorstep of her mother and father's home that morning, the Daily Prophet was waiting on the porch. Hermione had used her name to give them a subscription so they could keep up with what was happening in her world. It wasn't technically allowed but… there were loopholes to everything. She'd picked it up and cast it aside on the kitchen counter without really thinking much of it.

However, that evening, as her mother was doing dishes from their modest Christmas dinner and she and her father were keeping her company, her father decided to pick up the Daily Prophet and peruse it.

"Oh, goodness, Hermione…" her father said, staring at the front page.

"Dad, what… oh," she finished softly, seeing herself glimmering on the front page in Harry's arms. "That."

"What is it, dear?" asked her mother, drying her hands and peering over his shoulder. She saw the photo and went wide eyed.

"Hermione, you look so beautiful!" she gushed. "I knew you were going to this Ball thing but my goodness, to make the front page…"

"Harry and I were asked to have the first dance…" Hermione admitted. "It was… a little awkward… but we managed…"

Her stomach squirmed at the lie, for it hadn't been at all awkward, but she pushed through.

"Awkward?" said her father, turning to the story. "According to this, you both danced beautifully!"

Hermione blushed, vowing to read the story cover-to-cover later and make sure nothing awful had been said.

"Hermione, we are so proud of you! This is such a fantastic thing for you to experience…"

"Harry's the reason we were asked to dance, not me…" she muttered.

"But he wouldn't have been there if not for you," her mother reminded. Hermione shrugged.

"I didn't think we'd make the front page of the Daily…" she said. But as she said it, she thought back to previous years and realized that the front page of every Christmas Day Daily Prophet always featured the Ball, unless something horrific happened on Christmas Eve that needed to be reported… and she supposed, nothing truly horrific had occurred to take precedence over the Yuletide Ball.

Well, nothing that the public knew about anyway… Hermione thought guiltily as she remembered how Harry had pleasured her the night before…

"Regardless," said her father, putting down the paper and wrapping his arms around Hermione in a hug, "that is a great honor, and I can't believe you didn't tell us and we had to find out from the paper!" he joked.

Hermione giggled. "I guess I didn't see it as that newsworthy…" she said. In all honestly, she had nearly completely forgotten about the dance because of the numerous sinful and memorable events that occurred after it…

Her parents just beamed at her.

"My little girl is growing up…" said her mother tearfully, but she was smiling. "Getting asked to dance at fancy galas, getting married next year…"

"Oh, mum, don't cry…" Hermione said, hugging her. "I won't be going far. I'll always be your little girl."

"We just don't know what we'd do without you," her father said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You're all we've got, Hermione."

"I know," Hermione said, smiling. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise," she continued. "Ron won't be taking me away entirely."

"No, but Harry might!" joked her mother, motioning to the page. "You two looked awfully good together…"

Hermione stiffened and folded the paper up so the photo was no longer showing. "Harry and I are just friends," she reminded her. "Harry's not taking me anywhere."

Both her parents smiled knowingly. "We know, dear," said her father. "We're only teasing."

The nerves and knots in Hermione's stomach begged to differ on that front, but she knew it was only guilt eating away at her. There's no way her parents could know what had transpired the night before.

There was no way anyone could know, and no one ever would know. That was for sure.


	13. Confusion

AN: So, yeah, here it is... -guilty expression- My life has been all kinds of ridiculous, dramatic, stressful hell in the past few months. I'm honestly, legitimately trying to get back into writing definitively. I love this story and this plotline so much - I really do. I've already got the whole thing figured out and everything, I've been sitting on this idea for years. I promise I'm going to do my best to keep at it! -heart-

**By the by, there's a photo on the blog in relation to this chapter. Check it out at spicysugar368 [dot] tumblr [dot] com. Love you all! And when you go, try to ignore my incessant ramblings that cover the page now...**

* * *

**Chapter 13**

_Confusion_

* * *

Hermione opened the door to her flat wearily that evening at ten past ten, taking a deep breath in and reveling in the fact that the following day was Sunday. The Ministry was closed through the 27th, so she didn't have to be back to work until Tuesday. She glanced at the slider door that led to the small balcony and decided she'd open the curtains for a bit – the sky had been clear and stargazing had always been relaxing for her. However, she was met with a surprise when she pulled back the curtains and found Michelo, perched on the railing of the balcony with his head tucked under his wing, fast asleep. There was a package tied to his leg.

"Oh, you poor dear," Hermione mumbled, opening the door. Michelo stirred at the noise and immediately awoke and flew promptly into the apartment, landing on the coffee table and sticking out his leg as if attempting to make up for falling asleep on the job.

"It's quite all right," Hermione assured him, and he nibbled her finger affectionately. No sooner was he rid of his burden then he immediately tucked his head under his wing again. Hermione smirked and shook her head at him before slitting open the package. Inside was an envelope and a smaller box, both labeled with her name in Ron's untidy hand.

Her heart jumped, and her stomach sank. There was thick tension in the air as her hand hovered over the envelope. She bit her lip, then decided there was no putting off the inevitable, and opened it.

_My dearest Hermione,_

_I cannot possibly convey to you how much I miss you. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't wish you were here with me – not only for company but to help me along with all these bloody criminals. I can't tell you how many times I've wondered, What would Hermione do? Your voice in my head has been right most of the time, just so you know._

She giggled, then continued reading.

_I know you've been at your parents all day, but I wasn't sure when you'd be home, so I sent Michelo over in the early afternoon. I hope he wasn't too bored. I wanted to get this to you as soon as possible._

_I love you, Hermione. Happy Christmas._

_-Ron._

A tear slipped down her cheek and she tried to choke back more that she knew were brewing. How could she have betrayed him like she did…

Her eyes closed for a moment as she attempted to compose herself, then she opened the square white box that had been beneath the envelope. A combination gasp and sob escaped her lips when she saw that it was full of German chocolate truffles. She couldn't help but to smile as she carefully plucked one out and slipped it into her mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed as she let the chocolate melt delicately on her tongue and she almost resentfully swallowed it.

Upon opening her eyes to decide if she wanted to indulge in another, she noticed a slight glint coming from below the top layer of chocolate. Raising an eyebrow, she knelt down on the living room floor and set the box down on the coffee table, carefully taking out truffles until she revealed their hidden prize.

When she saw what it was, she couldn't hold back anymore and burst into tears.

Resting on top of the middle layer of chocolates was a ring: white gold, with an aquamarine stone – Ron's birthstone, for March – set in the center, with lines of three sapphires extending out from either side. With tears still streaming down her face, she slipped it onto the middle finger of her right hand. It fit beautifully. As she admired it, she noticed the black velvet box from Harry's gift to her the night before still sitting on the coffee table where she'd left it. She bit her lip, then slowly reached for it, opened the box, and carefully fastened the beautiful bracelet onto her right wrist.

As she stared at both pieces she almost felt her heart tear in two.

* * *

_Rap, rap, rap… rap, rap, rap…_

Ron stirred awake at the incessant noise, groaning in pain as he attempted to stretch out his cramped limbs. Apparently he'd fallen asleep on the couch… He squinted at the television to focus his vision. What appeared to be a dramatic movie translated into German was playing.

_Rap, rap, rap… rap, rap, rap…_

One of the more triumphant feats, to Ron, that he had accomplished during his visit so far to Berlin was not his numerous arrests of less-than-friendly wizards, but rather that he had managed to figure out how to work the ancient television in the flat. He was still getting used to the general concept, but it definitely served as an excellent source of background noise so he didn't feel so very alone all the time. Grumbling, he rubbed his eyes and slowly stood, checking his watch as he did. God, it was almost two in the morning…

_Rap, rap, rap… rap, rap, rap…_

Making one last feeble attempt to stretch out the kink in his neck, he finally made his way over to the slider door to let Michelo in.

"Hey there, chap," Ron mumbled as Michelo perched on the back of the couch. Ron released the package from Michelo's leg. He immediately tucked his head under his wing.

"Poor bloke," Ron said. "You've done a lot of flying about today." He turned the package about in his hands. It was rather small, but he assumed it was from Hermione.

Once he opened the box he found it contained a small silk purse, and a note.

_I went through the effort to put an undetectable extension charm on this to save your poor owl the extra work – he was so tired when he delivered my package this evening. –Hermione._

Of course, Ron thought. Hermione, with her brilliant mind combined with her incredible love for animals (and all creatures, magical and non), would naturally have thought of a way to make Michelo's life easier. Ron briefly found himself entertaining the idea of using the small silk bag for all further correspondence that involved anything larger than a letter while he was in Germany, but cast the thought aside when his curiosity at what was in the package won out. He dug about in the little bag until he felt parchment and pulled it out.

_Darling,_

_I love you and miss you so much. Christmas just wasn't the same without you. Mum and Dad are doing just lovely, and Harry spent the day with Ginny at your Aunt Muriel's house. I know they all must have missed you dearly._

_Speaking of Harry, I wanted to tell you that he and I were amazingly asked to have the first dance together at the Yuletide Ball last night – though I'm sure you saw that in the paper. How incredibly embarrassing to be on the front page… My parents wouldn't let it go, talking about how I'm growing up and all that._

_Anyway, I've sent along my gifts to you along with something from Harry, Ginny, George, and your mum. Anything not labeled is from me – but you'll likely be able to figure out who gave you what, anyway. I tried to give you things you could use while you're there… I know it must be awful not having the comforts of home._

_Also, just a side note. I do hope you get to keep Michelo after this is all said and done. He's quite a wonderful owl._

_All my love,_

_-Hermione._

Ron held back a tear reading Hermione's words. God, he missed her so much. He swallowed hard, then turned his attention back to the little bag.

It only took him a few minutes, but soon he was surrounded by what seemed like a small mountain of gifts. His mother had (to the surprise of no one) knitted him a sweater. This year's he actually didn't mind – it was a dark shade of blue that he could actually wear in public without getting mocked. George had sent him two bottles of his latest creation, called "Geyser Ink" (a quick check of the description was all he needed to know not to open them under any circumstance). Ginny sent two Quidditch books – in the front cover of the first was a piece of parchment with a note from her.

_I know reading is the absolute bane of your existence, but even Harry said you'd find these enjoyable. I figure you're probably bored, so even you might resort to reading. Love you! –Ginny._

Harry had sent a gigantic box of chocolate frogs with the note "_In case German food is horrid or you just need to take up your trading card pastime again, I figured these would work for either."_

Which left Hermione's gift of what seemed like an entire new wardrobe. She'd given him two new pairs of jeans, several shirts, a new sweater, and – blissfully – a large pack of boxer briefs. Relief washed over him when he realized he'd no longer have to wear the same underclothes as a convicted murderer.

He yawned loudly and checked his watch again to see that it was now nearly half past two. One half-hearted glance at the mound of stuff surrounding him was all he needed to convince himself that taking care of all of it could wait until morning, and he stumbled off to the bedroom to sleep.

* * *

Tuesday morning found Hermione with her head resting in her left hand as she stared at the blank parchment that she was supposed to be turning into a letter to the next of kin of Ron's arrest last night. It was ten till eight and Harry would be walking through that door any moment.

Her stomach fluttered with nerves at the very thought.

They hadn't spoken since Christmas morning. She was petrified to talk to him and she guessed he must be scared, too, because neither of them had made even the slightest effort to communicate.

The memory of her words telling Harry that they'd talk about what happened echoed in her mind and she tried to push away the reminder that she'd avoided it. Now, because she had been so afraid of what was going to be said, she would have to talk to him at work.

As an afterthought she quickly cast a silencing charm on the door.

She took a deep breath in, held it, then let it out. She could do this. _They_ could do this. They'd lived through so many things together. Surely they could get over a mistaken one-night-stand? After all, they'd never talked about that night in the tent after it happened. That right there was probably why they'd made love on Christmas Eve. They'd never talked about what had happened, had never discussed the tension or what it made them as friends.

Right, that was obviously it. So they'd just talk, agree that it was a mistake, that it would never happen again, and that just like before, they wouldn't tell anyone.

As if on cue, the office door opened and Harry stepped in.

"Morning," he said before plopping down in his chair.

"Good morning," Hermione chirped, turning around in her chair to see Harry with his head resting on his arms.

"Harry? Are you all right?"

He sighed deeply as a response.

"Listen, we need to talk, I've already cast a silencing charm on the door…"

"Hermione, I really don't know what there is to talk about," Harry said, lifting his head and looking at her. "We can't change what happened. Not unless you've held onto that time turner from third year."

"I know that. But Harry, I really think if we had talked about what had happened four years ago, what happened on Christmas never would have happened."

"How do you figure?"

"Well…" she paused. "I mean, what happened then… we were both so scared. We were confused. We didn't know what to make of the ridiculous hormones that teenagers have…"

Harry was silent.

"I think we can both agree that was a mistake and shouldn't have happened," she finished. "Right?"

Harry sighed and shook his head. "I don't know, Hermione. Neither of us were technically 'with' anyone at the time. You fancied Ron but he was being a git, and I wanted to be with Ginny but had told her it was impossible. Just because we ended up with other people… doesn't mean what happened then was wrong."

"But we should have talked about it, Harry. We shouldn't have pretended it didn't happen."

"Well, then, let's talk about it. Why did we do it, Hermione. We already know we were both scared out of our wits. We already know we were hormonal teenagers. What more reason do you need?"

Hermione bit her lip.

"Well… I mean, was there… any part of you… that, you know… fancied me?" she asked.

Harry stared at her in amazement.

"Even just a little part of you. Did you ever wonder… what it would be like?"

He sighed. "Hermione, I was focused on so many other things…"

"Even when we were in school," she interjected. "Before we went on the horcrux hunt."

"Hermione, why does this matter?" Harry asked. Hermione huffed.

"Because… I mean, if there were harbored feelings… it would help explain it…"

"Well what about you?" he countered. "Did you ever find yourself wanting me?"

Hermione went mute.

"Well?"

"I… well… I mean, I was a little jealous about you and Cho… and when we were talking about you and the Yule Ball in fourth year… a small part of me was hoping you'd ask me… and then… sixth year, with Slughorn's little… insider group… God, I'd have given anything to be with you instead of that awful Cormac…"

"So the short answer is yes," he said dully.

"Yes, I suppose it is," she answered.

Harry sighed.

"You didn't answer my question," she reminded him.

"Hermione… don't get me wrong, especially as we got older, I've always found you beautiful. I've always been close to you, and loved you as a sister. Maybe there might have been a time or two when I briefly wondered what it would be like to… be with you on a physical level because, well… I'm a bloke, aren't I? We think about that kind of stuff. But, more than anything, I wanted to make sure you'd always be there for me as my closest friend."

Hermione tried to hide the fact that his answer wasn't what she'd wanted to hear. Scolding herself, she beat down her heart for admitting that she'd been a giddy schoolgirl at some points in her life and had found herself with small crushes on the Boy Who Lived.

"Hermione?"

"Okay then, so, that settles it I suppose. What happened in the tent that night was purely physical. Two scared teenagers not knowing if they'd see the next sunrise."

"Yeah," affirmed Harry. "Guess that's it."

"Well then, that opens an entirely different door of discussion," Hermione said. She tried to keep her voice strong.

"Which is?"

"What the fuck happened a few nights ago?" she demanded. Harry jumped a little. That word rarely escaped Hermione's cultured lips.

"This time," she continued, "You cannot say there was nothing wrong with it. Not only are we _both_ seeing other people, we are both bloody _engaged_ to them. We are madly, unmistakably in love with the people we are planning on marrying. We never did anything physical with each other after that night in the tent, we never even talked about doing anything physical, we never entertained the idea at all. Yet somehow, suddenly, almost two weeks ago we're making out in my flat and then a few nights ago we have _sex_ with each other. If you remember, _both_ times _you_ initiated it and _both_ times I was the one to try to stop it. I didn't try very hard to stop you because, apparently, I wanted it too. So what the _fuck_ is going on."

She was breathing heavier by the time she finished and Harry was almost scared of her. She brought up valid points. Why, after four years, was he suddenly attracted to her again? What was making him – and her – unable to hold back from physically touching each other?

Upon deeper reflection, he realized, he'd never _not_ been attracted to Hermione in the last four years. She'd always been beautiful, and on a physical level, he'd always wanted her from that moment in the tent.

But on an emotional level?

Had his emotional feeling toward Hermione always been purely platonic? Or was what he always thought to be extremely deep platonic feelings actually something more?

"Hermione, I really think that both of us are just really confused right now." He spoke as honestly as he could. "Ron's gone so you're lonely and I hardly get to be around Ginny so now that I'm spending more time with you I seem to be more drawn to you. I think… it's like, you know, neither of us can have what we really want… so we are latching on to the available person."

This was surprisingly logical and Hermione couldn't deny that he sounded, honestly, spot on.

"Well, I… I suppose you're right. We're just confused. And as physically pleasurable as confusion has been, it needs to stop."

"Absolutely," he agreed.

There was a rather awkward silence where they stared at each other. A small part of Hermione was miffed that she would no longer get the physical, wonderful side effects of "being confused."

The longer the silence continued, the larger that "small part" of her became.

After about a minute, she spoke.

"Do you know that feeling when you've just told yourself you're going to go on a diet, and then you crave chocolate?"

"No," he said flatly, wondering where she was going. She huffed, as she usually did when she wasn't understood the first time round.

"You said your cousin was horrid. Didn't he ever promise you something that he never intended to give you?"

Harry pondered for a moment. There had been a time or two when Dudley had received delicious looking sweets on his birthday and when Harry had (ever so politely) asked for one, Dudley would hold it out to him and then snatch it away just before Harry could grab it.

That had happened a lot, come to think of it.

"Well sure, yeah."

"That feeling. Understand what I'm talking about now?"

"Sure," Harry agreed.

"I'm having that feeling right about now."

Harry stared at her, confused, before rapidly connecting the dots in his head. They'd just decided they weren't going to continue the ridiculously impossible physical relationship they'd been carrying on, and she was experiencing a classic case of wanting what she couldn't have.

He'd be kidding himself if he tried to say there wasn't a part of him that desperately wanted to bed her every night for the rest of his bloody life since they complemented each other so well in the sack…

"Yeah," he reluctantly agreed, "I think I am, too…"

More silence.

He scooted his chair closer to her so their knees were touching.

"So," he began, placing his left elbow on the arm of the chair and then resting his chin in his palm.

"So?" she countered, mirroring his pose.

"We've agreed that once we were confused teenagers, and now we're confused adults."

"Yes," she answered.

"And now we've agreed that we are strictly off limits to each other. Totally and completely."

"Yes," she said again.

"Well, Miss Granger, I have to be totally honest with you." He paused and she raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't like it one bit."

And with that, he leaned in and touched his lips to hers.


	14. Frustration

AN: Blessed be, you didn't have to wait for three months (guilty expression)... Here's chapter 14, all. Please be aware this story is far from over, though this chapter does skip a few weeks ahead. I've got a really busy weekend coming up and after that I'll be having a lot more to do in my spare time... so I can't promise a rapidly quick update... but I'll do my best! I appreciate y'all staying loyal despite the sporadic updates -heart-

* * *

**Chapter 14**

_Frustration_

* * *

Hermione sat nervously on her couch in her flat. Her hands were constantly sweating and she was consistently wiping them down on the cushions. She was trying to avoid touching her hair, as she'd tried very hard to make it look perfectly wavy and was letting it hang loose, framing her face. A slinky little black dress she rarely wore had been hanging on her bedroom door all day, and she'd finally put it on a few minutes ago. Her makeup had been carefully applied, with dramatic black eye liner and lashes and pinky-red lips. With every passing moment, her heart beat faster.

It was a quarter to eleven on January 15, and Ron was expected to be home – finally - in fifteen minutes.

She took a deep breath to calm her excited nerves. She couldn't wait to see him again. The five weeks he'd been gone had felt like forever.

Frustration joined her nerves when she remembered that Harry had very skillfully helped pass some of that time…

She bit her lip remembering when he'd kissed her in the office that day, when they'd decided they weren't going to continue what had happened between them. Just a quick peck to the lips and she'd almost fallen for it… but she'd put her foot down.

"_Harry…" she said, pushing him away. "Harry, no. We can't. I can't."_

_He sighed, clearly frustrated. "I know."_

"_We won't let it change anything, all right?" she said. "You're still my best friend."_

_He actually cracked a smile. "You'll always be my best friend, Hermione. No worries about that."_

"_Good, because I'm not going anywhere."_

Her… relationship… or whatever it was… with Harry was a thing of the past, now. Just like before, four years previously, they had gone "back to normal" and acted like nothing had happened.

And now, nothing stood between her and welcoming home the love of her life.

Well, nothing but a slinky black dress…

She glanced at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes. But he might come early. It probably wouldn't take long to get everything sorted at the ministry after his last arrest…

With her heart still threatening to beat out of her chest, she skipped back to their bedroom. She'd wait there for the tell-tale "pop" of him apparating into the living room and then walk out to him…

It was a Sunday, so she had slept in a bit later that morning, and she'd also taken advantage of a lazy afternoon to take a two hour nap so she wouldn't be tired when he came home. She knew he might be a little weary from his final arrest, but she had a feeling she could easily rouse him… After all, he'd gone over five weeks without sex, how could he say no?

_Even though it's only been about three weeks for you_, a guilty voice in her head reminded her. She angrily shoved the thought aside.

Although she knew it was Simon's intent to give Ron three days of emotional rest after a month long mission, she was still expected to report to work at eight the following morning. Harry would be there until Ron returned to the office, then would return back to his position as an adjunct. She had a feeling he was looking forward to not having to come to work every day. His Quidditch league would be starting up practice again soon, anyway – he'd surely be eager to get back to that boisterous bunch of eight year olds.

Five more minutes…

God, what would she do if Ron had changed, somehow? If he wasn't himself? If he didn't want her anymore?

No, no, she was being silly. There was nothing in his letters that would insinuate he felt any differently towards her. He would sweep her into his welcoming arms and kiss her like he always had and tell her everything would be all right…

_Pop!_

Her breathing stopped entirely and she felt like her heart might have too, but after it skipped a beat it resumed its pace at twice the normal speed.

He was home…

"Hermione?" he called. She heard his footfalls on the floor and she quickly walked over to the bedroom door, took a deep breath, and then stepped out of it. As she turned to face him standing in the hallway, she saw his jaw drop.

Ron almost couldn't believe his eyes. It was almost as if he'd forgotten what she'd looked like… forgotten how incredibly beautiful she was… with just a single look, she'd taken his breath away. She was in a tiny little dress that he wasn't sure he'd ever seen before… it came quite far above her knees and had a plunging V-neckline that left very little to the imagination. Her hair looked perfectly tousled and it just made him want to run his hands through it and muss it up… She was even wearing black high heels, and the look of pure, unadulterated desire (at least that's what he hoped it was…) in her eyes completed the look.

He cleared his throat.

"Well, hi there…" he said awkwardly. She smirked.

"I've missed you." Her voice sounded almost like a purr. Dear God, he'd gotten hard in five seconds flat. She was so gorgeous, he'd missed her so much…

"Merlin, I missed you, too, Hermione…"

She sauntered up to him, tangling one hand in his hair and running the other down his chest.

"I want you to make love to me," she whispered to him.

"I definitely think I can make that happen," he whispered back. He leaned in to kiss her and she jumped onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried them both into the bedroom, toppling onto the bed in a desperate heap of limbs and clothes, the latter of which were rapidly being torn off…

* * *

Harry sat at his desk in their small Auror office, dabbing a quill onto a blank sheet of parchment, making small ink dots randomly. If all had gone to plan, then Ron had returned home sometime around midnight last night, and that meant just three more days in this office for Harry. Three more days, and then he could go back to the way things used to be, instead of having to sit in the same room with the woman who haunted his raunchiest dreams.

The same woman who, he noted after glancing at the clock on the wall, was already fifteen minutes late for work this morning.

It didn't take an incredibly intelligent wizard to speculate potential reasons why that might be, Harry thought wryly. In the twelve hours between Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, Harry had managed to have sex with Hermione twice, but he was sure Ron had beat that statistic last night by two or three times over in likely less than half the time.

He was almost disgusted at how possessive he was feeling. Hermione was not, never was, and never would be his.

It also bothered him a lot that he'd never felt this way when she fell into Ron's arms after they defeated Voldemort, despite what had taken place between them in the tent. This jealous feeling was quite new, and extremely irksome.

His stomach squirmed when he remembered that Ginny had been over the previous night. She hadn't stayed over (her mother would never hear of that), but while Ginny had been there, she'd attempted to make love to Harry. Obviously that had been nothing new to them as a couple (though they weren't able to enjoy coitus nearly as much as Ron and Hermione, who were co-habitating), but for some reason Harry had said no.

Ginny was a beautiful woman and Harry loved her dearly, and he'd pegged it as him simply not being in the mood at the time, but the more he thought about it, the more it didn't make sense. Lying alone in his bed that night had lent his thoughts, instead of pleasuring Ginny's lovely body, to wondering just what Ron would be doing to Hermione's body when he came home that night. What really bothered him was that he knew that would inevitably happen, yet his stupid brain turned down sex with his fiancée as a distraction.

His heart sank a little when he realized he'd just referred to sex with Ginny as a mere "distraction"…

His hands met with his hair in frustration and he growled quietly. He was a mess. A bloody awful mess. And he had to get himself together before Hermione finally decided to make her way into work.

_Why_ did she suddenly consume his thoughts? He just didn't get it. Sure she was beautiful, funny, talented, intelligent… but so was Ginny. Even in his waking hours, when he thought he'd finally gotten a mental handle on the situation, Hermione would crop up in his dreams doing some of the most sinfully wonderful things, and he'd be back to square one. Right back to where he was on Christmas Eve.

And he'd had to hide all of this from everyone around him, including Ginny and, most difficult, Hermione. As far as he could tell, the closer the time came for Ron to come home, the more obsessed with him she'd become. It was as if she didn't even think of Harry anymore at all, like he was an afterthought.

It annoyed him that her thinking more of her fiancé and not of him was the correct and appropriate road to be taking…

Fuck it all, he was a bloody confused mess. And the first step to fixing it, he decided, would be to surprise Ginny after work that night, take her out to a wonderful dinner, and then bring her home and make sweet love to her all night long.

He was extremely glad that he got that plan solidified in his head, because just then, right before half past eight, Hermione walked into the office.

Or, rather, shuffled into the office without making eye contact.

Almost immediately, Harry felt the obnoxious-best-friend-side of himself perk up inside him and stick its nose out to smell the air.

Which smelled distinctly like sex, he noted.

He fought very hard the urge to smirk, and failed.

She practically collapsed into her office chair and Harry made a quick mental note of her appearance. An ordinary passer-by wouldn't be able to tell there was anything amiss. She was in a navy pantsuit with matching heeled navy pumps. Her hair was pulled back into a messy twist. But it was the presence of a good deal of eye makeup that tipped Harry off that she hadn't had much sleep. Hermione rarely wore anything more than a thin coat of mascara from what he could tell, but today she'd lined her eyes heavily with black liner and put on a great deal more mascara. He had seen her do this on a few other occasions when she'd simply not slept well and was trying to disguise the bags under her eyes.

She was staring in the general direction of the floor and not making any move to speak, so Harry took the opportunity.

"I take it Ron made it home all right?"

She nodded. "Yes, he's quite fine," she said quietly.

"You seem awfully tired," Harry said, fighting to keep his voice even, but he found it very hard not to chuckle.

"That's because I am," she said flatly. "I've had about three hours of sleep."

"Hmm, what kept you up?" he asked. This time he couldn't hold back a small laugh.

She glared at him through heavy lashes.

"Right, so, I'm assuming Ron?" he quipped. "Three hours of sleep… and he came home at midnight… and based on how late you are to work… I think that equates to something like five straight hours of sex, am I right?"

"Yes," she sighed. "Yes, that would be right."

She crossed her legs, winced rather obviously, and uncrossed them again.

"Christ, Hermione, don't you have any… healing spells or… something… for down there?" Harry asked on a more serious note. "You've got to be pretty torn up…"

She bit her lip. "I know one or two, but I've never practiced them, and I'd rather not risk it," she said. "My body will heal itself by tomorrow."

"If you say so," Harry said, but he didn't seem convinced. He paused for a moment before continuing. "Your rather unpleasant downstairs aside… how are you, really?"

She gave a weak smile. "I'm wonderful, Harry. I'm so happy he's home."

"Yeah, mainly because now you won't have to deal with my sorry ass in the office much anymore," he said, but he smiled.

"Don't be silly, I love working with you," she assured him. "Really, I do. It's refreshing."

Harry laughed. "Well, anytime you need to be 'refreshed,' I'm here for you."

"I'll remember that, Mr. Potter," she said. "Now, I've got to get to work on this last letter from Ron's arrest last night…"

"The wizard he arrested, or when he arrested your nether region?" Harry couldn't help himself, it was too easy.

"Will you stop it!" she chided, but he looked over at her and she was smiling.

"How about I go get you some coffee, you look like you could use a cup… or a whole pot…" he offered.

"Harry, really…"

"Right, so, whole pot of coffee coming right up!" he exclaimed, winking at her and leaving the office. While he was certainly headed for the magically enforced break room which contained ever-full coffee pots and never-ending pastries, he also wanted to clear his head. He'd suffered through the first few minutes of seeing his very clearly sexually ravaged best friend without pouncing on her… now he only had eight more hours to go.

* * *

"Ginny, you look absolutely beautiful tonight," Harry said when they returned to his home after dinner. They had gone to La Troia, a rather upscale Italian place in London.

"I don't look beautiful every night?" she smirked.

"Don't start that with me," Harry warned, but he was smiling.

"I swear, Harry, you're going to spoil me with all these nice dinners and such… I'm still not used to being treated this way."

"Well, you should start getting used to it," he said quietly, running a hand through her hair, "Because I don't plan on stopping."

She smiled up at him and he took the opportunity to lean down and kiss her. He started out slow but gradually deepened the kiss, roaming her mouth with his tongue and letting her do the same. He pulled her in close, feeling himself getting lost in the kiss and loving how connected he felt to her.

Cautiously, he let his hand slide down her back and he groped her bum briefly. She giggled and he took the opportunity to move his lips to her neck and his hand between her legs, gently rubbing her through her slacks…

"Harry…" she said, and pushed at his chest a little.

She couldn't be serious…

"Yes?" he asked innocently, straightening up.

"Harry… not tonight…"

"Well, why not? I'm trying to make up for turning you down yesterday…"

She laughed a little. "Harry, I appreciate your effort, but women don't quite work that way…"

"But…"

"Harry, you weren't in the mood last night and… I'm not really in the mood tonight. It happens. We'll have other chances to make love, I promise," she said, laughing.

"Women are infuriating…" he said, but forced a smile so Ginny wouldn't realize he was genuinely upset.

"But you love me," she said, and winked at him.

"Yeah, yeah…"

"Love you too, darling," she said, and kissed him lightly. "Thank you again for a fabulous dinner. I have to get home or mum will start worrying… she waits up for me every time I come over here."

"You owe me," he growled playfully, pulling her into a quick hug,

"Actually, dear, I'd say we're even," she quipped, and disapparated before he could answer.

Harry stared at the spot where she'd just stood in amazement, then leaned back against the foyer wall and let his head bang against the plaster. She'd left him even more frustrated rather than alleviating it… He'd already gotten a partial erection just from kissing her.

He resentfully remembered the previous night when he'd done almost the exact same thing and realized that Ginny was right, they were even. But damn it, he really wanted – needed – to make love to her.

But because he loved her, or because he wanted a distraction?

Fuck, he could already tell his was going to turn into a serious problem really fast if he didn't figure out a way to fix it.

* * *

"So did you enjoy your first day off at home?" Hermione murmured, snuggling into Ron as they lay in bed together.

"I suppose, though I was awfully lonely and bored," he said, looking over at her and kissing her forehead.

"Well, it's not like work was exciting," Hermione giggled. "But you'll be back soon enough."

"Hmm, at least that means I get to spend the whole day with you," he whispered, and rolled over and pulled her close to him. "I've missed you so much, Hermione."

She kissed him briefly. "I've missed you, too. I'm so happy I don't have to sleep alone anymore."

"Mmm, me too…" He leaned in and kissed her, deepening it quickly. "I want to make love to you again…"

"Ron, I can't, I really can't," she said helplessly, pulling away. "After last night it's going to take me a few days before my body can physically handle that…"

He frowned with concern. "I didn't realize I hurt you that badly…"

"Ron, please don't feel bad. I missed you… a lot. We just… tried to have five weeks worth of sex in five hours… and I'm just too fragile for that."

He stroked her hair gently. "Hermione, I'm sorry, I just… wasn't thinking straight I guess. It's fine, I definitely understand."

She sighed deeply, then decided it was best to change the subject.

"So what do you say to double dating with Harry and Ginny tomorrow night? I'm sure they're both eager to see you."

"Well, I did stop by George's shop today to say hello, and popped over to mum's too, so the whole family's gotten their fill…"

"Yes but you still haven't seen Harry yet and I'm sure he's missed you, too."

"Well I'd sure hope so, I sure as hell missed him during some of those arrests I had to go through… started having flashbacks to our years at Hogwarts!"

Hermione laughed. "All right, I'll talk to Harry tomorrow and see if he and Ginny are up for dinner. I think he took her out tonight, but I know they won't mind going out a second night in a row."

"Good. Just one condition," Ron said.

"Oh? What's that?"

"No talking about work. At all."

"Does that include your various adventures in Germany?"

"Yup. I want to have a night out with my friends without having to think about any aspect of work at all."

"All right, then, that's a deal," she agreed. "Now, I know you have the day off tomorrow, but I don't, and I've been extremely tired all day after only getting three hours of sleep last night…"

"Sorry…" Ron mumbled.

"I lived, it's okay," she said. "Anyway, I really need to get some sleep."

"I know, I know," he said, and kissed her once again. "Good night, Hermione."

"Night, Ron." She smiled at him, then rolled over and drifted into sleep.


	15. The Double Date

AN: So, yes, here I am ... again ... after another pathetic three months without all of you ... Sorry... :-/

As I confessed to one of my readers who messaged me wondering where on earth I was, I was having a bit of trouble figuring out how to get to the next major plot-point. I'm still not there yet, but this chapter at least flowed out in a few days. I just want you all to know that I've had the major plot-points and the ending planned out from square one - so I know where I'm going, it's just a matter of getting there.

* * *

**Chapter 15**

_The Double Date_

* * *

A bloody fucking double date.

She could not be serious. She just couldn't be. Surely this was some massive sort of cruel joke she was pulling on him…

"After all, I know Ron's missed everyone something awful, especially you, so I thought it'd be just lovely for the four of us to get together and have dinner, since it's been so long…"

Ron definitely wouldn't have missed Harry one bit if he had any inkling of the kind of sins Harry had committed with Ron's beloved while he was gone…

How could she possibly think he'd be okay with this? Actually, how could she herself possibly be okay with this? How could she bring herself to sit in front of the woman she'd betrayed? How could she ask him to sit in front of the man he'd done such a disservice to?

"So I'm assuming you'd probably just want to send an owl to Ginny this morning and let her know you'll pick her up around 6:00? I mean I'm sure she'd have no problem with it…"

No, of course Ginny would have no problem with it, but how the bloody hell could Harry sit next to Ginny and across from the woman he desperately wanted and her loving fiancé at the same time?

It really, really irritated him that he still considered himself as "desperately wanting" Hermione.

"Harry? Are you even listening to me?"

"What?" he asked, his head jerking up to look at her instead of the floor.

She sighed. "I said, I thought it would be nice if—"

"Yes, yes, double date, I heard you. I'll go ahead and send an owl to Ginny."

He disappeared out of the office before Hermione could even respond, heading for the Ministry owlery.

He briefly attempted concocting several letters to Ginny in his head that might render her unable to accept the request for a double date with any kind of due sincerity…

_Hermione wants to go on a double date this evening, but I know after going out last night you must be tired, so please feel free to refuse…_

_We have been invited to double date with Ron and Hermione this evening. I honestly have no desire at all to go as I'm very irritable today and don't see us having a good time…_

_We could either go out on a double date tonight, or we could stay home and make the sweet love we've denied each other the past two nights…_

Yeah, none of those were going to work. At all.

Finally in the owlery, he grabbed one of the complimentary pieces of parchment and a quill from the side wall and quickly penned out a letter to Ginny.

" _Ginny,_

_Hermione has come up with the splendid idea of you and I, and she and Ron, going out to dinner this evening to celebrate Ron's homecoming. I know you mentioned last night that you're still not used to all these fancy dinners and such that I give you, but it looks like you'll have to do with just one more for now!_

_I'll pick you up around six, if that's all right with you._

_Love,_

_Harry."_

Giving a deep sigh with the realization that there was absolutely no way out of this, he sealed the parchment in an envelope and sent it off with one of the many Ministry barn owls.

* * *

As much as he hated to admit it, he could legitimately say he was having fun. Having the three people he was closest to in this world all with him, laughing and talking like they were back in their Hogwarts days (right down to them choosing to congregate and have dinner in the Three Broomsticks), seemed to be exactly what he needed to get him out of his angry, irritable funk.

"Ron, tell us more about your mission! What was it like?" begged Ginny.

"Can't Gin, sorry," said Ron, smiling.

"Well that's just not fair, you know…"

"Not only did Miss Granger over here _promise me_ that there would be no talk of any sort of work at all—" (Hermione smiled and nodded) "—but if I told you anything, I'd have to kill you," he smirked.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," groaned Ginny.

"Even though I'm back, it's still confidential information," said Ron, leveling. "I have to wait until everything is cleared and reported before I can talk about it."

"I feel so left out," pouted Ginny. "Harry and Hermione know everything!"

"Actually, no, we don't, technically," Hermione interjected. "We only know whatever our boss let us know. Ron didn't tell us anything."

"And," said Harry, "that's only because we were on orders to help him."

Ginny sighed deeply. "Your boss had better clear this up soon! My brother's been on some wickedly amazing adventure and I'm not even allowed to know about it!" She smiled, and Harry knew she was just poking fun, but deep down it had to bother her to feel so excluded.

Harry distinctly remembered his frustrated explosion at Ron and Hermione in Sirius's house before their fifth year when he felt like they'd been hiding things from him, excluding him from their summer… Thankfully, though Ginny was a feisty one, she was older and wiser than Harry was that summer and made light of the situation.

Either way, though, he was eager to change the topic of conversation to put both Ginny and Ron at ease. Thankfully, Ron managed it.

"So how was Christmas here back home?" Ron asked. "No one wants to hear about my lonely one anyway."

Harry felt a twinge of something – pity, that Ron spent his Christmas alone, for the first time in his life? Or was it guilt, because Harry spent his Christmas Eve with Ron's fiancé…

"I don't know, Ron, I think I'd have preferred to be alone than at Aunt Muriel's!" said Ginny, but she was smiling.

"Now don't talk like that, Gin, you had Harry there, too," said Ron. "No hanky panky in my aunt's house, right?" he asked, attempting to keep a straight face and failing.

Everyone at the table chuckled before Harry answered "Nope, that house is still as virgin as the day your aunt moved in."

"All joking aside though, everyone did miss you, Ron," Ginny said. "Mum wouldn't stop asking about you… Harry had to really bite his tongue to not say anything compromising."

Ron shook his head and sighed, smiling. "Ah, mum… just can't keep her nose out of anything, can she?"

"I'd venture to say no one missed you more on Christmas Day than Hermione, though," said Harry, nodding in her direction at the table. Ron took the chance to lock eyes with her and give her a quick kiss.

"I missed you, too, Hermione," he said. "But I'm sure your parents enjoyed your company just as much as I would have."

She chuckled. "Perhaps in different ways, and aside from their little fit at the end of the night when they realized I'm 'growing up' and 'getting married'…"

Ron gave a theatrical gasp. "No! They can't possibly be just a little upset that their only child is getting married and becoming a 'real woman' this year, can they!"

Hermione jabbed him in the side, but laughed anyway. "I suppose you're right."

"And hey, what of that little blurb about you two in the Daily?" Ron asked. "That was sure a surprise Christmas morning! Congrats on the honor of the first dance, mate," Ron finished, winking at Harry.

Harry met Hermione's eyes and instantly regretted it. He'd avoided direct eye contact all evening and now he knew exactly why. The unspoken connection that erupted between them in that brief second was enough to set his stomach on fire with nerves and excitement. God fucking damnit, why couldn't he just _forget_ what it felt like to have his body pressed against hers…

He'd hardly had time to wonder if she had felt anything, too, before she spoke.

"Ah yes, the tragedies of being anywhere with Harry James Potter," Hermione quipped. "I don't know how you stand it, Ginny!"

"Carefully avoiding any public eye contact!" she laughed. "But seriously, you can't tell me it wasn't at least a _tiny bit cool_ to be asked to have the first dance!"

"Ah, it's all just show… if no one had made it up in the first place, it wouldn't even be such a big deal. It's not like it has some kind of inherent greatness… just a dance," Hermione said, shrugging. "It was honestly more nerve wracking than anything, having all those eyes on us!"

"Yeah, and having to remember how to waltz after having not done it for seven solid years…" Harry chimed in. "We managed, though."

"Have to say I'm not envious, mate," said Ron. "I've got two left feet and Hermione knows it!"

"One of these days I'll get you to learn to dance, even if I have to charm your dress shoes!" Hermione countered.

They all burst into laughter and Harry felt his frustrated side slowly retreat again, and he reveled in the simple joy of a happy time with his friends.

* * *

"Harry!" Ginny yelped, as he broke their kiss and pushed her against the wall of his foyer, tugging down her shirt collar to expose her nipple and sucking on it.

"I want you, Ginny," he growled into her skin, kissing his way back up her collarbone to her neck.

"Oh Merlin, Harry, I want you too—ohhhh…" she moaned as he bit her neck.

He was goddamn determined. Two nights in a row they'd had the opportunity to make love and both had been denied. He wanted – needed – to feel close to her. He'd been hard since the moment she'd started rubbing his leg under the table at the Three Broomsticks. She was killing him – everything was killing him – and he needed release, desperately.

"Make love to me tonight," he whispered into her lips, kissing her.

"Without hesitation," she replied, and ducked out from underneath his arms and dashed up the stairs. He followed quickly behind, catching up to her in his bedroom and pushing her down onto the bed, kissing her fiercely and tugging at the hem of her shirt. She broke the kiss briefly to throw it over her head and onto the floor before resuming the kiss and blindly unbuttoning his shirt while he fumbled with the fastening on her slacks. They soon joined the clothing already carelessly tossed to the floor, as did his black jeans.

Harry paused the kiss, panting, on all fours above her, and gazed down at her slender body. Ginny was not a curvy woman by any means… she had slender limbs and a modest B-cup breast size… but her slight frame made those modest breasts and slightly bony hip bones all the more enticing. Her skin was pale, as all natural red-heads were, but it was a pure, snowy pale … only a few freckles here and there, and even then, he thought they added something to her beauty.

"Ginny, you are so beautiful…" he murmured, leaning down and kissing her. She smiled after he pulled away.

"I'm nothing compared to you, handsome," she replied, tracing a finger down his muscled chest.

He smirked down at her before dipping down and kissing her neck. She arched her back and he took the opportunity to slide his hand underneath her and unclasp her bra. Soon he had slid it down her arms and tossed it off the bed, along with her panties. She was quick to return the favor and soon they were both naked, him on top of her, panting in anticipation.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too," he replied, and leaned down and kissed her again. He tried to start it slow, to ease into their lovemaking session… but he was so desperate with need, his skin crawling with desire, that he soon was devouring every inch of her, from her lips, down her chest – pausing at each breast to suck and lick at her nipples – kissing down her stomach and finally letting his lips come to rest between her legs. She was already so wet for him and he loved the taste of her. She was absolutely dripping and he lapped up her juices, licking and sucking and loving the moans and yelps of pleasure she was giving him. Her hands found their way to his hair and grabbed and pulled at it as he sucked on her sensitive clit. Sneakily, he slipped a finger inside her and she bucked her hips into him, yelling his name at the sensation as he fingered her while he sucked. It wasn't long before she got even louder and he made her cum – he eagerly replaced his finger with his tongue and tongue-fucked her while she came, letting her juices slide onto his tongue.

He continued to give her long, slow licks after she'd finished, making sure he got every last bit of the taste of her…

"Harry… God, I want to suck you off…"

Well, if that wasn't just music to his ears…

"Mmm, as you wish…" he murmured into her folds, giving her one last lick before sitting up and straddling her. "How about I come to you…" he suggested, but didn't wait for an answer before he brought himself up to her neck, his hard cock barely touching her lips. She gave a half glance up at him and smirked before taking just the tip into her mouth, swirling it with her tongue. He gasped in pleasure and moaned when she took him deeper into her mouth, loving the feeling of her sucking on him greedily. Whatever she did with her tongue, it felt fucking amazing… It only took a few minutes to drive him up the wall.

"Fuck, Ginny, I want to fuck you…"

"Already?" she questioned, meeting his eyes.

"Yes, God yes… I want to be inside you so fucking badly…"

"Can't say I'd complain," she winked, and leaned up to kiss him. "How would you like me?" she whispered seductively, and Harry felt himself quiver in excitement.

"On all fours," he said. "I want to take you from behind…" he growled. There was an animal inside him tonight, desperate to be set free, and he was following its lead gladly.

Thankfully, Ginny seemed pleased to obey the animal, too, and turned over, kneeling and supporting herself on the bed with her forearms. Harry took a moment to enjoy the sight in front of him… So fragile, so beautiful, so ready to expose those lovely folds to him…

After only a moment's hesitation, he thrust himself inside her, loving her scream of pleasure. She continued to scream as he continued to pound into her and he loved every second of it … loved hearing her scream, loved the feeling of her hot, tight wetness around him … he knew at this rate he wasn't going to last long, but he didn't care. He craved that release, that blessed sweet release, that would finally make him forget her… _Hermione_…

"Ginny… oh fuck, Ginny…"

_Hermione…_

"Ginny…"

_Hermione…_

"Ginny, Ginny, oh fuck yes…" he moaned, and he heard her scream as he came inside her. He could only hope that was her coming with him, completing his release…

He slowed to a stop, panting above her. He heard her let out a deep breath and she collapsed forward and down, ending up on her stomach.

"Wow…" she whispered. "That was… amazing…"

"I have to agree," he panted, flopping down on his back beside her. "I'm… so tired…"

"Me too… I need to be getting home…"

"Ah…" Harry said, his consciousness fading fast. He thought he heard her giggle before he closed his eyes.

"I love you…" he heard her whisper. He managed to say it back before he lost touch with the world entirely.

* * *

"_You can go faster, Harry…" she said quietly. Harry bit his lip again and pulled out and thrust in a bit faster than before._

_They were back in the tent, back in that perfect night when no one else existed but the two of them…_

"_Keep going, don't stop…" she said, and he heard her breath catch as he thrust in again. Watching her face the whole time, he dared to get steadier and faster, waiting for any sign that she was in pain or that he should stop…_

_Instead, her eyes closed in pleasure and her breathing was coming in steady gasps._

_Once Harry was sure that he wouldn't hurt her again he allowed himself to get lost in the feelings and the pleasure. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before…_

"_Harry… Harry… Mmmm…" she moaned, and Harry couldn't believe how something so simple could turn him on so much. As he sped up, his breathing came in shallow gasps and his own moans of pleasure soon mingled with Hermione's._

"_Ohhh, God… Hermione… Oh, Hermione…"_

_Suddenly, she was fading from beneath him… she flickered and shimmered and suddenly, turned into Ginny._

"_Harry, what are you doing?" she asked quizzically. Then she looked down – somehow she had materialized exactly where Hermione had just been… so Harry was inside her… "Oh, I see… we've never done this before…"_

_Harry swallowed. "Yes, I… I know…"_

"_I've missed you terribly while you've been gone… what a lovely way to see you again… making love for the first time, both of us…"_

"_Ginny, I… didn't mean…"_

"_Didn't mean what? You love me, don't you?"_

"_Of course I do, but…"_

_He couldn't finish his sentence because this time it was the tent that was fading and flickering, transforming into Harry's bedroom in the new home he'd just bought… Ginny was still beneath him and he was still inside her._

"_Harry, are you sure? It's my first time and well… I mean, have you done this before?"_

_Harry's memory interjected here, overriding his subconscious with the reality of what he'd actually said… After his heart had stopped for a moment, he'd let out a small breath, then…_

"_No Gin, of course not. Who else would I have done something like this with? I love you…"_

"_I love you too…" she replied. "I'm just nervous, but it does feel… interesting…"_

"_Good?"_

"_Yes, I suppose…"_

_And he leaned down to kiss her, to ease the discomfort, the same way he'd done with Hermione…_

_With a dream-like thud, he hit his covers. He was naked and now, suddenly, alone in his room._

"_Harry…" he heard. It was like a distant call, but when he rolled over to search for the source of the noise, he found Hermione standing not three feet from him. He should have been startled, but he felt like he had been expecting her… he sat up, sitting himself on the side of the bed, his feet gracing the floor…_

"_Harry," she purred, and he realized she was completely, blissfully, beautifully naked. From her sculpted collar bones to her perfect breasts to her flat stomach to a pussy he just knew was soaking wet… And then she was straddling him, sliding down onto him…_

"_I want you, Harry… I've always wanted you…"_

"_I want you too…" he gasped, and she pushed him down onto the bed so he was lying on his back. Without any warning she was riding him – he loved feeling her sliding up and down him, watching those perky breasts bounce up and down…_

"_Harry, oh yes… Harry!" she yelled. He felt himself so close to the edge, so ready to come…_

"_Harry…! Harry…"_

_Wait, why was she suddenly sounding irritated? Was he doing something wrong?_

"_Harry!"_

_He felt the dream sliding away from him… he tried to cling to it, reached out to her, but she disappeared in a wisp of white smoke… the dream faded away into blackness, but still he heard her…_

"Harry… Harry! Harry James Potter, wake up right this instant!"

He jolted from sleep, his eyes shooting open and his lungs panting for air. What the…

"Thank God, you're finally awake, you had me thinking you were dead! Get up! Now!"

He blinked at the ceiling a few times, grabbed for his glasses on the nightstand, shoved them on his nose, and rolled over to find none other than Hermione Jean Granger standing in his bedroom.

"Bloody hell, what are you doing here?" he yelped. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Finally noticed my presence, have you? It's nine o' clock and you're still in bed, _that_'_s _what I'm doing here!"

"Nine o' … what?" He sat up in bed, running his hands through his hair, trying to separate dream and reality.

"Oh good Lord, Harry, try and control yourself while I'm in the room will you?" she huffed, staring at his midsection. He looked down and realized he was hard as a rock, making a tent in the sheets over his legs, no thanks to his steamy but very confusing dream…

Made yet more confusing by the now clothed Hermione who was in his room griping at him as compared to the naked, horny one he'd just had on top of him a few minutes ago…

"Sorry Hermione, it's pretty natural for men," he said sarcastically. "I can't exactly prepare for the presence of someone I don't know is coming…"

"Well when you didn't show up for work I figured I'd come over here and get you myself. You had me worried something had happened to you…"

"Nope, I'm fine, just apparently forgot to set my waking charm… I was so tired last night, I guess I just passed out…"

He _had_ made love to Ginny last night, hadn't he? Or was that part of his weird, convoluted dream, too?

Thinking back to the blissful orgasm he'd had, he realized that making love to Ginny after dinner was, at least, reality.

As was his mind diverting to Hermione there at the end.

God dammit.

"Are you going to just sit there and stare at the floor or are you going to get up and get dressed? I'm not leaving here without you by my side."

"Well I'm really not in the mood to lollygag about naked in front of my best friend, so would you mind at least stepping out and giving me some privacy?"

In truth, he wouldn't have minded "lollygagging about" naked in front of Hermione at all … especially if she were naked, also … but he knew that he couldn't say that. He was also desperate for at least a few moments alone to restore his bloody sanity. It was rather mentally aggravating to fuck your fiancé in real life, then have a dream where you vacillate back and forth between your fiancé and a past lover, only to wake up mid-thrust in dream-past-lover to find real-life-past-lover screaming at you to wake up.

"Fine, but if you're not ready in fifteen minutes, I'm apparating back to the ministry and letting Simon know you're late. As yet, he has no idea, as he hasn't checked in on the office yet."

And with that, she walked briskly out of the room, not bothering to shut the door behind her. He heard her heels clack down the wooden staircase and through the foyer to where, he assumed, she planned to wait in the living room.

Reveling in the silence, he took a deep breath in and let it out, flopping his head down into his hands.

He needed a cold shower, a stiff drink, and twenty four bloody hours without having to see any other human person.

Unfortunately, he would only be able to achieve the foremost of the three at the present moment. Perhaps the stiff drink later, after work, if he could manage to shake off Hermione, Ron, and Ginny from wanting to spend time with him.

Not likely, but he could hope.

Resigning himself to a sexually frustrated day in hell, he got up and made his way into the master bath, preparing himself for the incredibly cold shower he needed to wake his mind up and clear it of all sexual thoughts, both of Ginny _and_ Hermione.

God, it was going to be a long, long day…


	16. Firewhiskey

AN: Look, it WASN'T three months this time! Six weeks isn't so bad, right? I mean, in comparison? I have a break in work for a while so maybe I will be able to write a little more between now and August...

* * *

**Chapter 16**

_Firewhiskey_

* * *

"Excited to come back to work tomorrow?" Hermione asked, laying her head on Ron's shoulder as they sat on their couch that evening.

"Yes and no," Ron replied, rubbing her back. "I mean, it's been rather dull being home doing a lot of nothing the last few days, so it'll be nice to go back to normalcy at the office. But at the same time, I feel like doing… you know… 'regular work' is going to be so boring after being away for a month catching dark wizards."

Hermione smiled. "I suppose, but at least now you get to spend every day with me again."

He smiled back and kissed her. "Very true."

A sigh escaped her lips as she leaned away from him. "Sometimes I wish I'd been with you. Even if it was dangerous… whatever you ended up doing."

Ron pulled her tighter.

"Sure it was dangerous, but we've been through a hell of a lot worse, you and I. And Harry. Especially Harry."

She sat up and looked at him. "What was it like? Really, what was it really like. All I know are the letters, the words from Simon, the notes for who to send the letters to... I mean for goodness sake, a _muggle man_… and Draco _bleeding _Malfoy…"

She watched his body tighten.

"Hermione… you know I can't… I… I can't tell you anything."

Deep down, she knew this. But it was so hard, sharing a bed with someone who'd been through Merlin knew what… and she couldn't be there for him, couldn't help him, couldn't share his struggle. She'd always been there for him, for him and for Harry, to make their trials her own, to help them through it… to have them help her through hers…

Her chest heaved up and down once in a heavy sigh.

"I know. I do, I really do, it's just…"

"Yeah. I know. It's hard for me too. I wish I could tell you everything. Exactly how horrified I was when I realized Colin Faire was a muggle, how I struggled to contain Malfoy after he tried to kill me…"

"What!" Hermione gasped, her hands suddenly grasping his shoulders. "He tried to _kill_ you?"

"Shit, fuck, Hermione, I shouldn't have said that, you're not supposed to know anything…"

"_Draco Malfoy tried to bloody murder my fiancé!_" she screeched. Oh, this was bad. This was very bad. She was panicking in a way she hadn't in a long time and she was watching Ron frantically try to recover from his mistake – not well.

"But I'm fine! I'm okay now! I fought him off and I got his bloody arse back in the Ministry where it belongs…"

She was still absolutely fuming.

"Hermione…"

"Harry never should have saved his pathetic, blonde, pale, skinny ass that day in the castle. He should have left him to die there in the Room of Requirement. If anyone deserved it that night, it was him."

Ron was floored. He'd never heard Hermione make such a violent statement. Sure, she'd slapped Malfoy straight across the face in their third year, but… wishing him dead?

He guiltily remembered his flush of anger that night when he'd arrested Draco… his memory back to the very same moment that horrible night…

_"One more word, Robertson, and I swear…"_

_Hatred such as Ron had never felt for Draco Malfoy before was bubbling up inside him. Not only had he done his best to make his, Harry's, and especially Hermione's life hell growing up, but he'd tried to kill them all, they'd fucking __saved his bloody life__ and he repaid them by running off into hiding and abusing illegal potions…_

_"You fucking coward, what could you ever do to me," Ron sneered._

His stomach squirmed. Malfoy probably never would have gotten as violent as he did the night Ron arrested him if Ron hadn't antagonized him so much… he'd provoked the bloody bastard, hadn't he?

Hermione definitely didn't need to know that, but she was still seething across from him and he began seriously considering a memory modification charm as she lifted her hand and jabbed her pointer finger at him.

"Ronald… Bilius… Weasley…" she said, her finger stabbing at him with each word. "If it were not for the fact that I value your job and mine very much, I'd torture the information right out of you…"

"Hermione, really, I… hey…" he suddenly noticed the sparkle on her wrist. There was a bracelet there, made of diamonds and sapphires. He'd never given her anything like that…

Desperate to change the topic, he pointed it out.

"Where'd you get that bracelet? I've never seen it before."

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face as her mind recognized what he said and she slowly turned her gaze toward her wrist, where the bracelet Harry gave her for Christmas dangled.

She had put it on that morning before work, idly, allowing herself a private moment of happiness as she looked at it. In the hectic battle with getting Harry out of bed that morning, she'd forgotten about it… She hadn't told Ron about the gift, but then… did she really think she'd be able to hide it? Harry had obviously spent so much on it… he'd not want her to never wear it…

"It was a gift," she said, and paused briefly.

"From?" Ron prompted. Obviously it was a gift. Like she'd spend that kind of money on something so extravagant for herself…

"From… Harry," she finished, trying extremely hard to keep her voice level and not let her face flush.

Ron wasn't as surprised as she thought he'd be, but he did seem irritated.

"Bloody rich bastard…" he mumbled.

"Ron…"

"Oh, you know I don't really mean it, Hermione," he said. "But Merlin, I try and give you a nice gift for Christmas and he goes and shows me up…"

Hermione glanced at the ring she was wearing, on the same hand, which Ron had indeed given her for Christmas.

"Ron, I wear this ring every day. I never take it off. This is the first you've seen of this bracelet… surely that should tell you which is more important to me?"

He scowled and shrugged.

"Ron, I didn't ask for this. He dragged me into the jewelry shop to buy this lovely diamond and peridot necklace for Ginny, which I am sure must have cost twice as much as this bracelet, and while we were there, he noticed me eyeing this up. I never, ever imagined he'd buy it for me but… He's… He's Harry. He's… philanthropic, you know?"

"Yeah… I know…"

"And you must know he had no idea about the ring… At least, if he did, I didn't know…"

"No, I hadn't told anyone about it," Ron confirmed. "I know it's irrational for me to think he did it on purpose. I just… I don't know, I thought you were only supposed to give jewelry to your significant other. Or like… your mother. Or something. Is this a muggle custom I don't know about?"

Hermione sighed. "No, Ron, it's usually the same in the muggle world, but close friends have been known to give jewelry before…"

"I guess."

"Ron…" she said, her voice softening, leaning into him. "You know that I love you…"

Something pricked in the back of her subconscious, but she ignored it.

"I love you too, Hermione. You're just so beautiful, it's hard not to be jealous. What man wouldn't want you?"

"Harry would never, Ron…"

There's that prick again. Sharper this time. Harder to ignore.

Ron sighed, and Hermione tried very hard to focus on nothing but him.

"I know. I love you."

"I love you too," she replied. "How about we get some sleep? It's getting late and it's your first day back tomorrow…"

He kissed her in reply. "Okay… but only if you make love to me first," he whispered onto her lips. She smiled.

"I think that can be arranged…"

* * *

_Tap tap tap… tap tap tap…_

"Bloody hell…" Ron grumbled next to her. "So not the way I want to be woken up on my first day back…"

She stretched as her subconscious slowly joined the world and she realized Ron was complaining about an owl tapping on the window. She squinted her eyes open and vaguely recognized it as Ginny's. A glance at the bedside clock told her it was 6:00 in the morning… What was Ginny doing up so early? For the owl to get to them by 6 Ginny must have sent it at 5…

"It's Ginny's owl," she said quietly, sliding out of bed and going to the window to unlatch it. The owl gratefully flew in out of the cold and perched on her footboard, holding out its waiting leg, attached to which was a letter. Still perplexed, Hermione unrolled the parchment and scanned it quickly.

_Hermione / Ron,_

_Have either of you heard from Harry or know where he might have gone after work last night? I wanted to drop by to see him as a surprise but when I got to his apartment around 8 he wasn't there. I waited around for hours and fell asleep on his couch… when I woke up at 4:30 he still wasn't home. I'm really getting worried about him but George absolutely needs me in the store today to replenish inventory… Not to mention I just don't even know where to look. I thought maybe he might have been with one or both of your for some reason maybe…_

_Just… let me know, okay?_

_Ginny._

Hermione was stunned. How could she be so calm? Then again, maybe she wasn't. It was difficult to transfer that kind of emotion in written words on parchment… and it did look like it was written in a hurry…

"Ron, Harry is missing."

She was answered with a snore.

"Well then," she glared at his sleeping form, huffing. First things, first, she needed a shower to clear her sleepy brain… then she'd head straight to the Burrow before work to make sure Ginny was okay…

* * *

"Mr. Potter, I think you need to go home."

"Jus' one more…"

"Absolutely not, Mr. Potter. It is past six o' clock in the morning and though this pub is open twenty four hours a day, that does not mean patrons are welcome to grace it with their drunken presence for that entire period. You have been here nearly twelve hours and you might as well have cleared me out of firewhiskey."

"Then why's it here twenny-fur hours…" he slurred. God he was so drunk. Why was he here again?

"Because, Mr. Potter, it is the entrance to a highly guarded magical facility that contains all the wizarding gold in England, namely Gingotts Bank in Diagon Alley. Any of that make sense to your head?"

"Mmmm."

"Do you have anyone who can assist you home, or do I need to floo you myself?"

"Mmmm."

"Mr. Potter, do you even know where you are?"

"Mm, th' Leakauldroun…."

"Yes, that's right, the Leaky Cauldron. And I swear if I someone told me the first day I saw you in here that ten years later you'd be a slobbering drunken mess on my barstool, I'd never have believed it. I don't know what on earth has come over you, Mr. Potter, but you best be getting home and getting the bloody hell over it. I've been covering for you all damn night and if you know what's good for you, you won't come back for at least a week to save yourself the bloody questions."

"Yessir…" Jesus he needed to get home… how was he supposed to floo home like this…

"Do you know where you live? Here, can you write? Write down your address here…"

Harry fumbled over the parchment and quill and managed to scribble out his address.

"Right then, come on, stand up…"

* * *

"Please tell Ginny I've been here and that I'm working on it, okay, Mrs. Weasley?"

"Of course, dear. She was just so tired when she came home… I was worried sick about her, and now Harry too… She practically collapsed and I won't be far behind… But I'll certainly sleep better once we know where he is."

"I'm sure he's fine, Molly. Just went out somewhere and didn't manage to get home on time. Young lads do it all the time." Mr. Weasley had recently appeared in the kitchen for his morning tea before work.

"Oh, Arthur, you don't suppose he's… he hasn't… you know… gallivanted off with another woman? _Sleeping with her?"_ Mrs. Weasley finished in a whisper.

"Oh Molly, I really don't think Harry would sleep with someone else when he plans on marrying Ginny…"

Hermione's stomach twisted nastily. Partly for guilt, that Harry in fact _had_ already slept with someone else… her… but also in part for jealousy, and that just sickened her, that she would be jealous of Harry sleeping with someone else…

"I wholeheartedly agree," Hermione chimed in, stifling down the stomach pangs. "I promise, Mrs. Weasley, I'll make sure he's okay. I'm going to head over to his place now… maybe he's come home since Ginny left."

Mrs. Weasley got up and hugged her. "Thank you, dear… just let us know straight away if you find anything out, all right?"

She smiled at the woman she already considered to be her mother-in-law. "Of course."

And with a quick turn of her heel, she apparated inside of Harry's living room. If he truly wasn't here there was no need to bother with the decorum of waiting on the front porch and knocking on the door, after all.

It was very quiet, but then, it was nearly seven in the morning. The sunrise was just starting to peek over the horizon and make the black sky turn to a deep blue. Sighing, she figured she might as well try his bedroom, and she hoped and prayed that, if he was there, he was alone. A short trip up the stairs and to the first door on the right, however, left her disappointed. His bed was just as disheveled as it had been when she'd dragged him out of the house the previous morning. He truly hadn't been home at all.

Trying to stem the flow of worry seeping into her stomach, she took a deep steadying breath. Think, Hermione, think. Where would Harry go?

A loud _thunk_ and then the sputtering of coughing downstairs nearly made her lose her head. What the…

She nearly flew down the stairs to the living room and found Harry and one of the well-known bartenders of the Leaky Cauldron stepping out of the fireplace. Harry seemed to be leaning rather heavily on the bartender.

"What on earth…"

"Ah, Miss Granger, bloody hell am I glad to see you…" mumbled the barman, dumping Harry on the couch. Harry fell limply into it and immediately began snoring.

"What happened to him?" she hissed.

"He showed up 'bout 6:30 I'd say, said he was coming right from work, his last day."

"That's right, yesterday was his last day at the Ministry since Ron is coming back…"

"Right, well, I was just coming in to start my twelve hour night shift and I figured he'd be there a bit… he ordered a few firewhiskeys and butterbeers intermingled… he really started getting bad about 1 in the morning and I cut him off till he sobered up a little around 3… then he just kept ordering more and finally at 6 I'd had enough and said he had to get home. He'd simply refused up to that point."

"You should have forced him out at 1 when you cut him off!" she yelped. "How could you let him stay?"

"Miss Granger trust me, I tried! But he's a stubborn son-of-a-bitch some days and Harry Potter is not a person you want to be on the bad side of… all things considered, y'know…"

This sentiment halted Hermione a moment. Not everyone knew him as she did… the loyal friend, the kind-hearted giver, the cheerful Quidditch coach… the talented lover… (There's that stomach pang again). Most of the wizarding world knew him as the fierce, valiant young man who vanquished the most powerful wizard of the age at seventeen. Seeing it that way, it wasn't hard to fathom why most people would be afraid to cross him…

"Right, of course," she mumbled, not feeling bothered to tell the man that Harry Potter would be the last person who could send a curse at a barman for not letting him stay. "Well, thank you for bringing him home… has he received any kind of care?"

"I shot him with a few of the best sobering charms I know… Got most of the liquor out of his system, now he's just tired."

She glanced at the snoring figure on the couch, who was now drooling.

"Yes, I see that… I'll take it from here, thank you. I'm sure you want to get home after what I'm sure was a long night at work."

"Absolutely right, ma'am."

"Thank you, again."

"Just doing my job." And with a tip of an invisible hat, he disapparated.

Hermione let out a deep sigh of relief and turned to Harry, still oblivious to the world on the couch. Thank God he didn't have to come into the Ministry today.

"Wingardium Leviosa," she murmured, and Harry slowly lifted off the couch, still deep in slumber. Steadily, she guided his limp form up the stairs and into his bed, where she gently dropped him onto the sheets. Briefly she considered undressing him, but decided so much motion would wake him, and just opted to pull the covers up to his chin and hope he slept this off quickly so he could apologize to Ginny in person. As she was tucking him in, he stirred. She froze, but it was no use – the movement must have woken him, however blearily.

"Hmmm… Hermione…?" he asked, squinting his eyes open.

"Yes, yes, it's me, I'm here…"

"How… what…"

"Shhh…" she placed a finger over his lips. "The barman brought you home. You're home now, you're safe."

"You… brought me to bed…" he whispered sleepily.

"Yes, I did," she affirmed. "I didn't want you sleeping on the couch…"

"Thank you…" he mumbled.

"Of course, Harry, I love you, why wouldn't I take care of you?"

"You love me?"

Christ, those weren't the words she should have said to her half drunk best friend that she'd slept with…

"Of course I do, Harry. As a friend. You're my friend, and I love you, and I wouldn't want to see you hurt… You had me worried…"

"Kiss me."

She blinked at him. "Harry, I…"

"I'm… so tired… just want a kiss… goodnight…"

She bit her lip, watching his eyes flutter closed. He was so tired… still somewhat drunk… he wouldn't even remember…

Repeating this fact in her head, she leaned down and softly pressed her lips to his. He slipped his tongue in her mouth briefly, tasting her, but quickly relaxed backwards and sighed, sinking into the pillow.

"Thank you…" he murmured, and his voice drifted into snoring again.

Her teeth clamped down on her lip again, cursing herself for succumbing to temptation, and she quickly found parchment and a quill in his bedside table and scribbled him a note to see Ginny as soon as he woke up. With one last glance at him and one last guilty memory of that fleeting feeling of his tongue against hers, she turned and went down to his living room to floo to work.


	17. Agony

**AN: **So ... Hi! (embarrassed smile). So it's been like ... over eight months. And I promise you this story has never left the back of my head, especially since I'm still regularly getting emails telling me someone else has started following the story, or favorited the story, or reviewed the story. (Welcome, newcomers!) As I've mentioned many times before, the plot-points and ending are all set, but it's just getting there smoothly that's the issue. And I think I'm beginning to figure it out. I'm going to be crazy busy in May, so maybe, just maybe, I can finish this story before then... No promises, but a few (several... many...) late nights spent at the computer might just be able to get it done. I thank you all deeply for you patience with me, and apologize if you have to go back and re-read in order to remember what's happened!

**Chapter 17**

**Agony**

* * *

"What happened this morning? I remember waking up to an owl tapping on the window and you getting up but I fell back asleep… when I got up at 7 to get ready for work you were gone."

Ron had joined her in the office. She'd been there since about 7:15, trying to decide if she should break the news to Ginny or wait for Harry to tell her himself. If he told her at all.

"The owl was Ginny's, she'd sent it to say Harry was missing—"

"What! Missing? Why? How?"

"Ron, if you'd just let me finish a sentence every now and then…" he grunted at her and she sighed. "She said she'd been to his place and he hadn't been home all night and she was worried. So, I went to the Burrow to talk to her but she'd already fallen asleep… I let Mrs. Weasley know that I'd look for him."

"And? Did he turn up?"

"About a minute after I arrived at his house, he showed up, yes."

She bit her lip, wondering how much she should divulge to Ron.

"Well where the bloody hell was he? Gone all night, that's ridiculous…"

A heavy sigh escaped her lips. "Well, he wasn't alone. A barman from the Leaky Cauldron brought him home."

Ron regarded her curiously. "A barman?"

Well, it's not like they weren't best friends and Harry wouldn't tell Ron himself anyway…

"Yes, it was Tom I think. Apparently Harry had been there all night, drinking. He was totally gone by the time Tom had enough sense to send him home… I levitated him up to his room and he's there sleeping it off now, but I left him a note telling him he'd better get his sorry arse over to Ginny and apologize for worrying her…"

"Damn straight he should! What the bloody hell was he thinking! Harry never drinks like that…"

"I really don't know, Ron…"

"Well don't you think you should let Ginny know he's okay?" Ron prodded.

"Half of me says yes but the other thinks I should leave that to Harry," Hermione conceded. "God knows if all I tell Ginny is that he's alive and well, she will ask where he's been, and I'd rather Harry be the one to tell that story."

Ron scowled but seemed to be considering this.

"Plus she's probably still asleep, George doesn't open the store until 9:30 and I know she's going to want every last minute of sleep she can get since she was up until 5…"

"I know, but…" Ron paused. "Why don't you just send her an owl? All you have to say is he's all right, she can't pressure you for more information since it's just a letter. And hopefully Harry will be by the shop at some point to talk to her…"

Hermione personally thought that delivering the news that your fiancé was, in fact, alive and at home after thinking he might be dead was best delivered in person, but all things considered, Ron was probably right. Making up her mind, she stood up and headed for the Ministry Owlery.

* * *

"Ginny, dear! An owl's just arrived for you!"

Ginny heard her mother's voice calling up the steps to her room, where she was struggling to get ready without falling back asleep.

"Who from?" she shouted back.

"I'm not sure, dear, I don't recognize the owl, but it could be Hermione's writing…"

Hermione… Ginny vaguely remembered her mother telling her (in her half asleep haze before she was even out of bed this morning) that Hermione had stopped by and was looking for Harry…

Damn that man. What in Merlin's name could he have been up to all bloody night. She was so fuming mad she could hardly stand it. Once or twice, the notion that maybe he was with someone else… another woman… had entered her head. She had angrily shoved the thoughts away, knowing they'd do her no good.

"Coming, mum!" she called, already thundering down the stairs, her heart pounding. Her mother handed her the letter as she bounded into the kitchen and Ginny tore it open, desperate for any kind of news of where her ridiculous fiancé had been.

_Ginny,_

_Harry is home and well. Sleeping, currently._

_I will leave the story of where he's been for him to tell you. Not my place._

_He should be coming to see you whenever he wakes up._

_Please, try not to worry._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

"Bloody bastard…"

"Ginny!"

"Sorry, mum, but really! Out all night and apparently doing something so horrendously awful that Hermione can't even tell me what it is!"

"Oh, let me see that…" Her mother took the letter from Ginny's hand and scanned it quickly.

"I will leave the story of where's he's been for him to tell you…" she quoted. "Well, I never…"

"See?" Ginny prodded. "Oh, how am I going to do bloody inventory like this…"

Her mother's eyes softened and she pulled her into a hug. "Keeping your mind busy is exactly what you need right now. Dwelling on anything is absolutely not going to help your situation, or make Harry wake up and come to you any faster."

Ginny nodded, wrapping her arms around her mother briefly before pulling away.

"I'm just… Merlin, I'm _so_ angry…" she said through gritted teeth. "How could he _do_ this to me…"

"Ginny, right now, you don't even know what he's done. Hermione might just be respecting his privacy. I'm sure it's nothing too terrible."

Ginny huffed at her mother's pandering. Her mother was just as worried as she was and Ginny damn well knew it, but she had to give her credit for trying to diffuse the situation.

"Now, why don't you head to work and slave away in that inventory room while my Georgie tortures you?" she teased, throwing a smile Ginny's way. Ginny couldn't help it, she gave a small smile back.

"Thanks, mum. I'll let you know what he says." And she disapparated from the kitchen.

* * *

"_Harry Potter… the Boy Who Lived… Come to die…"_

_The snakelike voice echoed in his head, chased him through the forest. He was running, running fast… from something… from Voldemort… from Death Eaters… from death itself…_

_He didn't want to die, he was desperate to live, to survive… to not die as his parents did…_

"_Harry Potter…"_

_The voice was getting closer…_

"_The Boy Who Lived…"_

_He could almost feel the breath on his neck…_

"_Come to die…"_

_His scar flared to life, burning him, searing his skin… a white, blinding light, hot pain…_

"Aaggh!" Harry yelled, his eyes snapping open and his chest heaving while his heart beat frantically. He attempted to calm himself down while processing what happened.

It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare. One like he hadn't had in a long time.

Gingerly, he raised his hand to touch his faded lightning bolt scar on his forehead. The pain had just been in the dream… he didn't even feel the echo of the sting now… The rest of his head, however, was pounding in misery.

_Voldemort is dead,_ he assured himself. _He's gone. You killed him yourself._

Well, not entirely, he reminded himself. But regardless… every last piece of Voldemort's soul was gone. Harry had killed his physical body and stabbed the diary with the basilisk fang… Dumbledore had destroyed the ring… Ron, the locket… Hermione, the cup… Ravenclaw's diadem was ultimately destroyed by the Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement that night… Neville had killed Nagini… And Voldemort himself had killed the bit of his soul that had lived in Harry…

"_The Boy Who Lived… Come to die…"_

He shuddered involuntarily. It was over. Done.

Briefly he wondered what might have caused such a bizarre nightmare from his past. It didn't take long for him to suddenly recall his night of binge drinking the night before…

Sobriety rushed over him like ice water. _Fuck_.

Well, if drinking made him have nightmare likes that, he doubted he'd be having the experience again anytime soon…

How could he have been so stupid? And how did he even get home? He wracked his brain, attempting to ignore what he now knew was a horrendous hangover headache, trying to remember something, anything, but the last thing he could recall was around two in the morning…

Speaking of, what time was it anyway?

Almost fearfully, he glanced at his bedside clock. 12:30 in the afternoon. Christ…

Next to his clock rested a folded up piece of parchment with his name on it in what he instantly recognized as Hermione's neat script.

Well, he surmised that Hermione must have had something to do with getting him from the Leaky Cauldron to his bed, then… Only one way to find out. Hoping the letter contained some more hints as to the fate of his evening, he picked it up and unfolded it, scanning Hermione's words.

_Harry,_

_First of all let me start this off by saying that I am extremely disappointed in you. In case your memory fails you, you spent twelve hours drinking away some unknown sorrow at the Leaky Cauldron last night. The poor barman, Tom, flooed you home shortly after I arrived here looking for you. I got you upstairs and into bed. You are very lucky that I am your best friend willing to do you such a service, or else you'd have been left drooling and snoring on your couch, dumped there by a bartender._

Damn. If that wasn't a guilt trip and a half… but he deserved it, after Hermione having to see him like that… Taking a deep breath, he moved on to the next paragraph.

_Second of all, your fiancée has been absolutely worried sick about you. She dropped by your house to see you last night and you weren't there. She waited there all night, fell asleep around 11, and gave up and went home when she woke up on your couch at 4:30 in the morning. You had best be getting yourself over to see her as soon as you're up and have read this. An apology to her very frazzled and worried mother might not hurt, either._

Oh no… Ginny… he had no clue she'd planned to see him last night… God, she must have been so worried… Swallowing hard, he proceeded to the third and final paragraph.

_Third of all, I have no clue what possessed you to drink for twelve hours straight, but I'd advise you figure it out and make sure it doesn't happen again, because it's not at all like you. Despite my incredible frustration with you right now, you know I am always here for you to talk to, as is Ron, I'm sure. After you've assured Ginny of your well-being, please talk to me._

_-Hermione._

Wow. He set the letter down and let his head fall into his hands.

In truth, he'd gone to the bar in the first place to get that stiff drink he'd promised himself yesterday morning after enduring his confusing sexual dream and Hermione yelling at him. One drink had turned into two, then three, and soon he was using the drinks to try and drown out the thoughts of Hermione that the liquor seemed to be increasing, rather than diminishing… he somewhat recalled a longing for numbness… Since he didn't remember anything past two, he must have achieved that.

Sighing deeply, he realized he really shouldn't put off seeing Ginny, and got out of bed and made his way to the shower, hoping a good explanation made its way into his head in the process.

* * *

"Gin, why don't you just take lunch… this spreadsheet is wrong, too…"

Ginny huffed and collapsed in one of the desk chairs in the back room.

"I'm trying, George, really…"

"I know that, Ginny, but you're a mess. You're distracted and upset, and for good reason. Go get some food and clear your head."

"What if Harry comes while I'm gone?"

"You better hope he doesn't, because I'll give him a piece of my mind for doing this to my baby sister…"

"George…" Ginny started, but stopped. She wanted to defend him but she'd be lying to herself if she tried to say she wasn't mad at him, too.

The bell that signaled a customer entering the shop tinkled in the back. Ginny moved to get up but George stopped her.

"Look, I'll take care of it. Grab your stuff and take lunch. As long as you need. I'm serious." He walked out into the store, leaving Ginny alone. She sighed, the picked up her purse off the floor and her wand off the desk and followed George's footsteps out into the store. She was almost past the shelves and into the main lobby before she looked up and realized that the customer that had come in wasn't a customer at all.

It was Harry.

A combination of fury and relief swept through her, and for a minute she was unsure of which to let dominate her head, but for now settled on relief and dropped her bag and wand on the floor in order to throw herself onto him and cling to him.

"Harry, oh thank God you're all right, I've been so worried…"

She felt him wrap his arms around her. "I know, I'm sorry… I'm fine, I promise…"

Allowing herself one small private moment to relax into him, smell his scent, feel his protective arms, she lost herself. But very quickly, she bounced back and let the floodgates loose on the fury end of her emotion. She pulled away and looked him square in the eyes.

"I think we need to talk. Now."

Harry swallowed and did his best to look apologetic and properly mortified. He knew it was coming.

"I know. Let's go for a walk?" he suggested. In case it turned into a row, as he feared it might, he didn't want them to be stuck at a table in a restaurant.

* * *

"Don't you think he's up by now?"

"Hermione, really, how should I know…?"

She and Ron had just returned from lunch back to their office. Every last memo that had flown into the office all morning had been snatched up by Hermione and then cast aside, hopeful for news of Harry meeting with Ginny. It was now one in the afternoon, and even the three memos that had appeared while they'd been gone for an hour were nothing more than worthless office junk mail.

"I'm just so worried. Ginny is going to be absolutely furious with him. I hope she doesn't … leave him or something," Hermione said, clasping her hands in her lap.

"If Gin leaves him just because they have a fight about him staying in a bar all night, they shouldn't be together anyway," Ron observed. "She's a bigger person than that, Hermione."

A long and deep sigh was Hermione's only reply to that statement.

"Look, Hermione. There's nothing you can do. You found him, you took care of him, and you let Ginny know he was okay. You're not getting a damn thing done because you're so worried about getting a letter from one of them stating how their day has gone. Worrying never helped anyone accomplish anything. Harry would be the first to tell you that."

Hermione guiltily remembered herself trying in vain to convince Harry in fifth year that Sirius really wasn't in trouble, that he was worrying over nothing, that it was Voldemort trying to get into his head to lure him to the Ministry… He hadn't listened, and the very person he'd been worried about had ended up dead.

Granted, she didn't think the events transpiring today would result in someone dying, but still … it was the principle of the thing.

"You're right, I know you are," she sighed. "But I feel bad that he's put Ginny through this, and more than anything I'm trying to wrap my head around what in the world caused him to binge drink like this…"

"I haven't got the faintest bloody idea," Ron admitted, "and I have to say that's got me a little confused, too."

Silence enveloped the room for a few moments.

"I'm going to go get us both some coffee," Hermione announced. "Maybe it will help us concentrate."

"Sounds like a plan," Ron said, and ran his hands through his hair as Hermione left the room.

_Just get the hell up and make things right, mate,_ he found himself thinking. _And while you're at it, let us know what the bloody hell is wrong with you…_

* * *

"While I was sleeping this morning I had a horrible dream. Nightmare."

He and Ginny had been walking up and down the pleasant streets of Hogsmeade for an hour, now. It was bitterly cold, as it always was in January in Scotland, but the movement of walking was helping keep them warm. So far, they'd simply gone back and forth on where he'd been, why he hadn't told her, and him taking a few brief minutes to reassure her that he truly hadn't been sleeping with another woman.

Not last night, anyway…

"What sort of dream?" she asked. He knew she still wasn't fully okay, that she was still a bit mad. It was imperative that he provide a legitimate, believable reason why he'd let himself spiral into a drunken stupor, since "I'm obsessing over my best friend because I slept with her on Christmas Eve" definitely wouldn't go over well.

While getting ready to come see Ginny, it had dawned on him that this crazy dream of his provided the perfect believable reasoning.

"It was… about Voldemort," Harry admitted.

Ginny actually stopped walking to stare at him, dumbfounded.

"You're kidding."

"I wish I was," he said, frowning. "I was reliving that night of the battle at Hogwarts… when I'd come and found him in the woods to let him kill me… except in the dream, I…"

He stopped as his voice broke a little. For the first time since he'd arrived in Hogsmeade that afternoon, Ginny reached down and took his hand.

"I'm sorry, it's just … the dream version honestly scares me. Because in the dream, I… I was running away. I didn't want to die… I distinctly remember feeling like I didn't want to die like… like my parents did…"

Ginny was silent for a moment.

"Is that why you went out to drink last night?" she asked quietly. She paused, then, "Because you're thinking about it – about him – again?"

"Yes," was all he said.

"Harry… why? I thought you'd put this all past you…"

It took Harry a moment to answer as he let the fear from the dream run through his veins again.

"I guess it's because I've spent the last few weeks in an Auror's office. A solid five weeks surrounded by nothing but the people and information that once were determined to find and kill the darkest wizard of the age. And then me knowing that even in their best efforts, even the best Auror team in the world, never could have killed him even if they'd tried. Even a backfired Avada Kedavra curse didn't kill him, because a part of his soul lived inside half a dozen other things by that point, and then the backfired curse implanted a part of him into me… and there was even a blasted prophecy that no one had ever bothered to research stating point blank that either I would kill him, or he would kill me, but that there was no other outcome possible."

"Dumbledore researched it," Ginny stated quietly, after a pause.

Harry took a deep breath, calming down from the rant. It of course hadn't honestly been the reason he'd been in such despair last night, but talking about it like this was making him upset enough to go out and drink again.

"Yes… Dumbledore researched it. And just after sending me on the biggest wild goose chase of my life with next to no information, he died."

"Harry, he didn't plan it that way…"

Harry bit his lip before replying. "I know he didn't, Gin. And I know he tried his best to make sure I was protected growing up until I was ready. And I know he gave me all the information he could before he died that night. I know." He sighed. "And I know that it's all over now, that Voldemort isn't around anymore to hurt me, or you, or anyone else I love. But it doesn't make it any easier, dealing with the memories like this."

They had remained stopped in the same spot on the sidewalk since Ginny had stopped in surprise when he admitted he'd dreamt about Voldemort. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around his waist. He let his arms encircle her and rested his cheek on top of her head.

"Harry, I love you…"

"I love you, too."

"But… We both need to make sure you're past this before we get married."

"I know."

"I mean … I can deal with it, sure, but… Harry, if we have children… they can't have a father who has random bouts of misery so horrible he resorts to drinking his troubles away all night…"

This stung Harry. Quite a lot.

"Ginny, I…"

"I mean it, Harry. It was a huge part of all our lives, and we will all always be haunted by the fact that it was our generation who brought him down. That's normal. But if this keeps happening…" she trailed off.

Harry's stomach felt like it had turned to ice. The fact that Ginny appeared to be threatening to leave him if he didn't shape up was legitimately frightening. He'd gone out last night to try and forget about Hermione, and ended up dredging up memories of a time he'd thought he had gotten past.

Perhaps he truly wasn't over what had happened. He'd been to hell and back – several times – between the ages of eleven and eighteen. Facing, tracking, and killing the most dangerous, evil wizard in decades was positively horrifying. And perhaps he'd never really come to that conclusion until now. He'd grown up in a never-ending rush of adrenaline, and the relief period after Voldemort's death had merely camouflaged the adrenaline, not relieved it.

"Harry?"

"Ginny, I completely understand and agree with what you're saying. I never realized until yesterday that I never really fully coped with everything that happened … I'm going to try to do some serious thinking over the next few days. Clear my head."

She looked at him, calculating. "Okay," she replied. "You know I'm here if you need me, right?"

"Of course, Gin."

He looked down at her, still holding her in his arms.

"Are we okay?"

Her silence was not the answer he'd been hoping for. Finally, after a full minute, she replied.

"We're not okay, but I still love you, and I want to help you," she said. "I'm honestly worried about you."

"About us?"

Ginny looked down at the ground and said, "Yes, Harry. A little worried about us."

The world was closing in around him, it felt like. He had to close his eyes to regain his composure. Opening them, he said, "I understand. Really. I promise I will do my best to get us back to where we were. Okay?"

"Okay, Harry."

"I love you, Ginny."

"I love you, too, Harry. I have to get back to work. Go home and have some tea and relax or something."

Her words felt cold and Harry bit back the raw emotions that were surfacing in him.

"Thanks, Gin. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay."

And in a moment, she had disapparated back to the store, and Harry was left standing alone in the middle of a deserted street in Hogsmeade as snowflakes started to fall slowly around him, wondering where in the hell he was supposed to go from here.


	18. Talking It Out

**AN:** Just a note, there's a flashback in this chapter to the **movie version** of Deathly Hallows (Part 2). I didn't keep to the book canon because I really feel like what they did in the movie here was so much stronger, and fit so much better with my plot. And I have to confess, I fought tears writing that little part. You'll know. It's in italics, as usual. Also, I updated the cover image for this story. I really have way too much fun designing them. For those who followed Faith, I updated that one as well.

* * *

**Chapter 18**

**Talking It Out**

* * *

"I hope you're aware that Ron is a little peeved that you requested to speak to me alone, without him around."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, already frustrated enough. He didn't need any added conflict.

"I'll talk to him later. I'll just tell him that you're the sound, logical one, so I wanted to talk to you one-on-one first." He'd crafted that response out of thin air, but he thought it sounded reasonable.

"So," Hermione observed, "then it's really not because I'm the 'sound logical one' that you asked me to come see you alone?"

"No," he answered bluntly, "though that does score you points, anyway."

"Well, I'm here. So, let's talk. What in the world is going on with you?"

They were sitting in his living room next to each other on the couch. He was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, occasionally cradling his head in his hands but for the most part keeping his fingers clenched together. She mirrored his pose now, looking over at him as he stared blankly down at his folded hands.

"I really don't even know where to start," he said.

"How about we start with when you got off work yesterday…" she suggested. "As we both know, you got off, probably came home and changed clothes, and then went to the Leaky Cauldron."

"Yep."

"Why?" she asked bluntly.

"You," he answered, just as blunt.

Hermione blinked a time or two. Though this hadn't been the answer she'd been expecting (she wasn't sure _what _she had been expecting, really), it didn't come as a full surprise… based on recent events.

Her continued silence prompted Harry to continue.

"I don't know what's come over me, Hermione. I can't stop thinking about you. Us. Whatever… we were. Are. I don't know."

"Harry…"

"I think of you when I make love to Ginny!" he blurted out, finally turning to meet her eyes. "It's driving me mad! And just when I think I've gotten over it, you make another blasted trip into my dreams…"

Hermione swallowed. Sure, she still thought occasionally of the time they'd spent together – how could she not – but it was nothing like this…

"I'd just gotten out of one of those dreams when you showed up in my bedroom yesterday morning to drag me to work," he continued. "It went from that night in the tent, to me with Ginny, to you showing up naked in my bedroom, and finished with the real you getting my sorry arse out of bed to go to work. That was the last straw for me, I guess. I couldn't take the tension, the confusion, the torture… anymore. I resolved that I was going to go get a stiff drink after work, so… I did."

There was a full minute of silence before Hermione spoke, in her usual way of pointing out the obviously missing facts in order to bring control to the situation.

"I think it's clear that you had more than one stiff drink…"

"Yes, Hermione, more than one. As many as it took to drown out the thoughts of you.

Hermione took a deep breath in, held it, and then let it out. This was not at all what she'd expected. She had no idea how to handle this. Unbidden, thoughts of she and Harry's numerous moments of stolen passion wound their way into her head… every touch, every kiss, every sigh of pleasure… Her eyes closed as the memories invaded, blanketing her mind in sweet ecstasy for just a few moments… she could see, now, why Harry couldn't let it go. While Hermione was distracted full-time by Ron, and was even more devoted to him right now since he'd been away, Harry only saw Ginny for a few hours at a time. And now he didn't have anything to distract him from those thoughts, those sweet memories, from breaking into his mind at any moment.

"Harry, I… I'm sorry…"

"It gets worse," he sighed.

Wondering how it could possibly be worse, Hermione braced herself for whatever came next.

"After you came and put me in bed this morning… and I went back to sleep… I had a different dream. A nightmare."

Hermione's mind immediately had flashbacks to all the times in their Hogwarts days Harry had said some variation of these words. All the horrible nightmares, the torturous visions, the deadly dreams from the mind of Voldemort himself…

"Harry… it wasn't… it couldn't have been…?" she left the question unfinished.

"It was about him, yeah," he conceded. "Not… _from_ him… obviously not… but it was about… about that last night…"

She watched his eyes close and tighten and saw him bite his lower lip.

"I was scared, Hermione. I was a fucking coward. In the dream, I had gone to let him kill me… and then ran. I ran away as fast as I could, away from him, but I wasn't fast enough, I felt him getting closer to me, felt him getting ready to kill me, and there was nothing I could do…"

He felt his voice get choked in his throat as he fought the raw emotion. How could he ever have dreamed of running away? How could he have ever thought of deserting the whole world, who _needed him_, that way… Hermione's arms slipped around his shoulders in comfort as he shook away the tears he didn't want to come.

"Harry… it was only a dream. Just a nightmare. It's over. You didn't run. You knew what you had to do, and you walked right in there with your head held high and practically spat in his face, because you came out alive…"

Suddenly, with a blinding sting, she remembered the moment when Harry had come to them… to her and Ron… after he'd learned what Snape's memories had showed him in the Penseive… after he knew that he had to die… With agonizing misery she remembered as she had pieced it together, and realized what he was about to undertake…

"_There's a reason I can hear them… the horcruxes… I think I've known for a while… and I think you have, too…"_

_Harry was a horcrux. The thing she'd feared most ever since they'd started… And he knew, now. Whatever he had seen, he knew for sure… he held a piece of Voldemort's soul inside him… and every last piece of it had to be killed… and the only way to kill a soul that lived inside Harry…_

_Would be to kill Harry's, too…_

_She had told him, several months previously, that she didn't want to die alone. And now he was going to be the one going to die… all alone._

_She'd be damned if she'd let her best friend die alone… Not after everything, she couldn't bear to be without him… Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks as she rushed forward to him and threw her arms around his shoulders… A sob escaped her throat before she uttered the words she knew she'd always wanted to say…_

"_I'll go with you…"_

Hermione swallowed down the tears that the memory threatened to bring forward. How she knew, in that moment when she'd been ready to die with Harry, at his side, that she loved him… that she always had.

But she'd let it go. She had let Harry fall right back into Ginny's waiting arms, and she'd let herself get swept off her feet by Ron, and she'd forgotten…

"Harry…" she managed to get out. "Harry…"

Slowly, she reached up her hand and lightly touched his chin, turning his head to look at her.

"Our dreams, our nightmares, don't define us. They don't describe who we are. Sometimes, they reveal our fears… but ultimately they are just a stream of images from our subconscious." She paused for a moment. "I think… I think in hindsight, you really are scared of that night. You couldn't allow yourself to be scared then, but looking back, it's easy to be terrified of what you confronted. But how you feel about it now… Harry, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter now, because _then, _you were the strong, brave Boy Who Lived, who faced death and stared it straight in the face… who welcomed it, knowing that it would save the world… It was you, Harry. Your courage, your strength, your love for our world… that saved us."

A long silence elapsed between them as Harry absorbed these words.

"Logically that, of course, makes sense," Harry said, "but I think we both know my mind doesn't follow the logic of yours." More silence. "It's going to take a while for me to get over that I, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, even in hindsight, considered fleeing for my own life, determined not to die like my parents did…"

"I understand," was all she said, but she kept her arms around his shoulders.

"It still gets worse…"

"Harry, how…"

"Well I obviously couldn't tell Ginny I went to the bar to get the hell over you."

"Of course not…"

"So, I told her I went to the bar because I was thinking about the past. I told her about the dream, I told her how scared I was…"

He stopped, breathing deeply.

"I told her all of that, and instead of telling me everything would be all right… she told me she'd have to leave me if I didn't get my act together."

"What!" Hermione gasped, letting go of Harry and staring at him incredulously.

"Not precisely in those words, but… that's what it boils down to. She said she could handle my emotional mood swings just fine, but if we had children someday, she couldn't risk them having a father who took to random nights of bar drinking for hours on end…"

Hermione was stunned. There was no other word for it. Ginny loved Harry, Hermione knew she did … how could she possibly be surprised that Harry was starting to have flashbacks and memories? Granted going to the bar for twelve hours was entirely unacceptable, but for heaven's sake the memories weren't even why he went… But, of course, Ginny didn't know that…

"Hermione… what do I do… I don't know what to do…"

She bit her lower lip as she thought about that question. Ultimately, Harry needed to do whatever it was that made him happy. And despite this odd exclamation from Ginny that she couldn't be with the man who saved the world if he couldn't forget about what he'd gone through, if Harry truly wanted to be with Ginny, he'd have to find a way to make things right.

"Clearly this has really upset you… that she's talking about leaving…" Hermione cautiously started.

"I love her, Hermione. I love her so much. I've spent the last four years with her at my side, she was waiting for me after everything was said and done… she'd waited while we were hunting down horcruxes, not having any idea what we were doing or if I'd even come back alive… she waited all that time… I can't let her down, now…"

It seemed an appropriate thing to do to take his hand, so she gently laid her right hand on top of his left, which was resting on his knee. He instantly flipped his hand over and gripped hers tightly.

"Harry… if you want her to stay, you have to show her that you're over it, that you're not going to … to relapse into the memories anymore. Even… even if you're really not."

She could hardly believe she was telling Harry to be untruthful to Ginny in order to preserve (what she saw to be) a failing relationship. But, she told herself, all she'd ever wanted was to see Harry happy… and if Ginny made him happy, then damn it she was going to tell him how to keep her.

It was amazing how much her perspective on Ginny had changed in just the last few minutes. Incredible, really, that one thing like that could totally change your view on a person.

"I really don't think I can just… just hide it, Hermione. And even if I did hide it… what happens if we get married, and then I start having nightmares again? She'd know I'd never gotten over it, that it still haunted me… she'd always be worrying that I'd slip into depression again…"

For once in her life, Hermione was at a loss for words. Nothing came to mind that would make Harry feel better, or would provide a logical and honest solution, at all.

"I just have to hope she's willing to work with me, I guess…" he finished, putting his head in his hands.

* * *

"Ginny, I… I really don't know what to say…" Ron said lamely. He'd taken the opportunity, once Hermione had gone to talk to Harry, to stop back home to the Burrow to talk to Ginny.

"There's nothing to say, Ron," she said, taking a sip of her tea. They were sitting together at the kitchen table, like they had for so many years. "He's clearly got some issues to work out, and I don't want to be in the way."

"Gin, you can't possibly have expected that he'd just be able to… to get over it. Hell, I'm not even really over it all, yet."

"I don't know what I expected, Ron. I really don't," she sighed. "You all went through a lot out there. I went through a lot back at school, too, of course… and then the final battle, obviously… but I mean. I guess what I had to deal with just… wasn't quite as awful. Maybe I was just so happy that the Dark Lord was gone that I easily forgot about the grief."

Ron was silent. He downed the last of his tea and then folded his hands on the table, not meeting Ginny's eyes.

"So, let me get this straight. You follow after the Boy Who Lived for years as a schoolgirl, awed by his fame. Eventually, he falls for you and instead of being in love with his fame, you fall for him as a real guy. He breaks things off to go save the world doing who knows what, you patiently wait for his return while dealing with the school year from hell… Finally, he comes back after enduring all kinds of shit all over the countryside, kills off Voldemort, and you fall back into his waiting arms. So far so good?" He glanced over at her.

All she did was nod mutely.

"So then, you two spend four happy years together, get engaged to get hitched, and then suddenly when the inevitable flashbacks and depression start, you abandon him?"

"Ron, it's not like that…"

"It's not? Blimey, Ginny, I'm surprised you didn't stop talking to me as your brother when I went through it." Ron was getting angry. He remembered all too well, for two solid years after the final battle, dealing with all the raw feelings, emotions, and memories of those months when they were wandering. The hopelessness, the frustration, the distress after abandoning Harry and Hermione, the jealousy when he thought Hermione loved Harry more than she loved him, the incredible stress of knowing once he came back that the fate of the world rested on their pathetic shoulders… and that last night, that final night, not knowing who was alive and who was dead… losing his brother, thinking he'd lose Harry, his best friend… And if it was this bad for him, he could only imagine what Harry was going through now. The Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, the one who ultimately made the decision to sacrifice himself to save them all. Part of Ron wondered why it had taken so long for it to hit Harry, but then again, who wouldn't try to suppress it all when you'd had to deal with as much as Harry had?

"That was different!" she insisted. "Ron, just listen to me…"

"Ginny, what can you possibly say? I love you, but you're not making a lick of sense."

"It's… it's not that I think he _shouldn't_ be… be grieving, distressed, angry… whatever he is. It _not like that_." She took a deep breath before continuing. "It's just… something that he needs to accept and deal with in his own head. I don't want to be in the way of him. I don't want to affect whatever it is that he needs to do. If he needs to go out and binge drink every night for the next year to come to grips with it and accept his past, then so be it, but I don't want to be a part of it. I don't want to have him dependent on me for that. These trials are his, and his alone."

The silence stretched on for a full minute before Ron spoke.

"If that makes sense to you, and he accepts it, then more power to you," he said slowly. "But if I hadn't had Hermione to help me through my… my post-traumatic stress disorder… then I don't know how I'd have gotten through it."

"Well, Harry's not you," she said flatly. "Frankly, I think he's got a stronger will than you, and based on the shit he's gone through, I really think it's something he needs to deal with on his own, or he'll never really be over it."

Ron stared at her blankly. He couldn't even pretend to be offended at her observation, because he knew damn well that Harry had ten times the willpower, ten times the self control, that he did. Nevertheless, strong will or not, he still didn't think Ginny was right. But it was her relationship, not his. And if she wanted to break up with him while he "got over" the past, that was her prerogative. Ron's job was to be there for his best friend when his world fell apart.

Shaking his head slowly, he got up from the table and put his teacup in the sink.

"You're right, Harry does have a stronger will than me," Ron admitted. "That's a fact. But your decisions are yours to make, Gin. I'm still your brother at the end of it all."

"Thank you, Ron," she said quietly. She didn't get up, just stayed at the table staring into her tea dregs.

"I'm heading home. You know where to find me if you ever need to talk."

"Okay."

Ron looked at her one last time before he left, and for a moment saw his little baby sister that he'd picked on and protected growing up. She was only a year younger than he was, but when she was the only one who kept you from being the baby of the family, whether it was one year or ten didn't matter. But, Ron reminded himself, she wasn't a baby anymore. She was a grown woman, fondling the engagement ring on her left hand as she wondered what her future held.

"Love you, Gin," he said quietly.

"Love you, too," she whispered back.

He took a deep breath, then turned and walked out the door, waiting until he got to the front gate before he apparated back to his flat.


	19. The Luck Of The Phoenix

**AN: **Yeah, so, uh... hi? Might be my longest break yet... so sorry loves. =/ Life got crazy last year. Like legit. I won't bore you with details, just enjoy...

* * *

**Chapter 19**

_The Luck of the Phoenix_

* * *

The firewhiskey in the glass in front of him seemed to almost glow. It was a much redder color than what they served in England, or even in Scotland. He ran his fingers along the rim of the small cup, staring down at nothing in particular. The thoughts at the corners of his mind weren't even really bothering him, anymore.

"Got somethin' on yer mind, mate?" the bartender quipped, leaning against the bar across from Harry. He jolted with surprise, knocking over the glass of whiskey onto the bar.

"Damn it, I'm sorry, I…"

"Aye, don' worry about it, sonny," the barman said, waving his wand over the mess. The glass righted itself and the liquid disappeared in one smooth motion. "'ere, take another. On the house. Look like yeh need it." He poured another shot into the glass.

It seemed even redder now. The Irish sure knew how to do firewhiskey right. There was a moment of silence, and the barman hadn't moved. Then…

"If yeh… if yeh don't mind me askin', sonny," (Harry tried to excuse the belittling nickname, as the barman was probably three times his age), "what, er…" he lowered his voice to a whisper, "wha' brings a man such as yerself to Ireland?"

Harry met his eyes and considered his answer for a moment. On a whim, he had decided to apparate to a wizarding pub he'd heard of in Dublin called The Luck Of the Phoenix. No one would know him there, at least on a personal level, and he'd have the ability to be alone with his thoughts. Of course, he was still famous all over the wizarding community – his photo had been in the papers everywhere when he'd defeated Voldemort four years ago – so he'd expected the stares and whispers that followed him into the pub, and he'd be kidding himself if he'd said he didn't expect at least one person to ask why on earth Harry Potter was in Ireland.

When Harry still didn't answer, the barman dropped his voice lower still, and barely audibly, said, "I mean… Tha' is… yeh are Harry Potter, aye? Jus' though' yeh mainly kept to yerself… Rumor is fame don' agree with yeh much."

Harry actually cracked a smile at this, and threw the shot back before answering. Oh, it burned all the way down, he thought, cracking his neck and setting the glass back on the bar top.

"You're right, fame doesn't agree with me much at all," he replied, chuckling. "I grew up not having a clue about the wizarding world, and definitely having no idea that everyone in it knew my name. It was a bit of a shock to start at Hogwarts and be followed around by stares and rumors."

The barman waited, as if thinking Harry would go on, and then spoke again when Harry remained quiet.

"Well, yeh have me utmost respect," he said. "I couldn'na done it, tha's for sure. Another?" he asked, motioning to Harry's empty glass.

"Might as well," Harry conceded, and this time he didn't wait before drinking it. He knocked it back as quick as he could but he still felt the sting all the way up his nose.

"Yeh didn' answer me first question," the barman prodded. "Wha' brings yeh in?"

Harry just shook his head. "It's not important. Just wanted to think."

"Aye," was the only reply the barman gave. He moved to pour another shot into Harry's glass but he stopped him.

"No, I think – I think two is enough. Firewhiskey really got me in trouble a bit ago. I'll just take a butterbeer, if you don't mind."

The barman raised his eyebrows, but smiled and plopped a pint in front of him.

"Well, if it's thinkin' yeh want, I'll leave yeh alone with those thoughts o' yours."

And just like that he was gone.

He let out a deep breath that he didn't know he'd been holding. Hopefully, since it had been years since he'd done anything remotely newsworthy, he could be assured that there wouldn't be photos of him appearing in the papers the next day showing him in an Irish pub. Not that he was doing anything wrong, he reminded himself. But it was drama that he didn't need.

"_Wha brings a man such as yerself to Ireland?" _The question echoed in his head.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose, then took a gulp of the butterbeer.

It had been almost a week.

Nearly an entire week that he resolved he wouldn't try to contact Ginny unless she contacted him first. She had seemed pretty insistent that he needed to "work on things" before they'd be "okay" again… Well, if she thought he needed to work on things, then he sure wasn't going to ruin her impression of him making progress by checking in every day.

But even as he thought it, he knew that's wasn't why he was doing it.

No, it was far more desperate, far more shallow, than that. If he waited for her to make the first move, then he would know that she really wanted to be with him. That she really wanted to talk to him.

The longer she went without seeing how he was doing, without dropping by to see him, the more sure he was that she was slowly convincing herself that they weren't right together.

He'd avoided Ron and Hermione, too, though not as completely as Ginny. They'd sent him an owl or two, wondering how he was doing, and he'd sent short, curt answers back.

Not a single owl had come from Ginny.

He didn't know how much more he could take of her silence. He was determined not to be the one to break it, but the longer it went on, the more broken down his resolve became.

But what would he say, if he did see her? Nothing had changed.

Granted, he hadn't had any other odd flashback dreams, so there was that, but he still struggled with the feelings that had surfaced because of it. No matter what Hermione had said to him about it, he just couldn't shake the feeling of terror that snaked through his veins when he replayed Voldemort's words… _Harry Potter, the boy who lived, come to die…_

"Can I get yeh a second?" the barman asked, suddenly appearing.

"What? I…" he glanced down at his pint of butterbeer and realized it was empty. "Er, yeah, sure…" He watched the golden liquid slowly fill the glass and then retreated back into his thoughts.

Of course, there was still the maddening desire for Hermione. He might not have had any more dreams about Voldemort, but every night he relived every tender moment he'd ever had with Hermione, and it was killing him. It was even more than remembering the sex. No, no, it was so much worse. A few nights ago he relived the night he threw his arms around her to protect her from Lupin as a werewolf in third year. She had shaken underneath him and cried into his jacket once they were safe…

The next night he'd woken up in a cold sweat after dreaming that he was back in second year, staring down at a petrified Hermione in the hospital wing, gripping her hand in his as if she were still there, gazing into her lifeless eyes…

And then last night… Last night had been the worst…

He watched himself talk to Ron and Hermione that last night, before going into the woods to meet Voldemort, as if he were a ghost, an imaginary observer to the conversation. But instead of watching himself talk, he looked at Hermione. He watched every grimace, every gasp, every agonizing time she wringed her hands… and his heart broke as he watched her throw her arms around him, as he saw the look of love and adoration in her eyes just before they closed to fend off the tears…

And when he heard her choke out, "I'll go with you," his ghost-like dream self had collapsed to his knees. And then he'd woken up.

How could he have been so thick? How could he have missed that? The raw emotion in her voice, the look in her eyes…

_You thought you were about to die_, he reminded himself. _Love was the last thing on your mind._

Regardless of how distracted he'd been that night, he sure as hell saw it now. Over and over, Hermione had proclaimed her willingness to die for, or with, Harry.

Then again, so had Ron, he reminded himself… but it was Hermione who had stayed with him even after Ron left when they were stranded in the woods hunting horcruxes…

His mind travelled back to that night by the fire before he could help it and he slammed his hand on the bar in frustration. The barman appeared, looking confused.

"Somethin' I can get yeh?" he inquired. "'nother butterbeer?"

Harry was surprised to see that his glass was, yet again, empty.

"I… no, no I think I should… I ought to be getting home…" He dug in his pockets and found a few galleons. "Here," he said, dropping them on the bar. "Keep the change."

He slid off his barstool and stumbled a hair. Two shots of firewhiskey and two butterbeers in the span of an hour was enough to make his head just a touch fuzzy.

"If yer not steady on yer feet, it's prob'ly for the best if yeh floo home, sir," said the barman quietly. "Fireplace is to yer left."

"Right, thanks," said Harry, making his way to the large mantle. He probably could have successfully apparated if he'd wanted to, but he'd rather not risk it. The last thing he needed was to apparate into someone else's living room.

* * *

"It really worries me that Ginny isn't trying to talk to Harry," said Hermione, putting down her quill and spinning in her chair to look at Ron.

"I'm worried too, Hermione, but what can we do?" he replied, facing her. "We've tried to tell her to just give it up and owl him, but she's stubborn."

"Just like her brother," Hermione mumbled.

"Oi!"

"Sorry, but you know it's true…"

They were silent a moment.

"Why do you suppose Harry hasn't talked to her, either?"

"Because he's just as stubborn as she is," Hermione answered. She huffed. "This is just getting to be ridiculous. I mean he's hardly talked to US for heaven's sake…"

"Well we could always stop by," Ron suggested.

"No, if he doesn't want to talk, he'll just tell us to leave."

"Well then, unless you plan on just arranging a random run-in while he's out and forcing him to be cordial, I don't know what to tell you."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron, that's…" but she stopped herself mid sentence. Today was Wednesday. "What time is it?" she snapped.

"It's past bloody one o' clock, I asked you an hour ago if you were ready to take lunch…"

"That's it!" she cried, jumping up from her desk.

"What's it?"

"Harry's Quidditch league! They started practice up again today. It should be getting over soon… I'll take my lunch to apparate over there and talk to him."

Ron stomach growled right on cue.

"You do that, and let me know how it goes, but I've got a monster in here that really needs feeding…" Ron said. Hermione sighed loudly.

"You and food, I swear…" she paused. "Fine, I'll go alone. Cover for me if I don't come back on time."

And before he could answer, she was out of the office and headed for the Atrium.

* * *

"That was a great practice today, gents!" Harry was calling. "You'd never know you'd been off for a few weeks!"

Hermione stood by the bleachers and watched as the boys all helped to pack away the equipment. Eventually, one of them glanced her way.

"Hey, Coach Potter, look! It's your _girlfriend_," he said. Hermione smiled when she remembered the first time she'd been here and they'd all thought she and Harry were dating. Clearly they either hadn't listened, or didn't believe him, when he'd explained they were just friends.

Or so they pretended.

Harry's gaze snapped to her and she watched his face turn from shocked to curious. She gave a small wave and the boys, as if on cue, all made retching sounds in disgust. One by one, their parents appeared to take each boy home, and soon it was just Harry and Hermione. She walked up to where he was standing in the middle of the field, polishing the snitch before replacing it back in the case.

"Hi," she said simply.

"Hi," he answered, putting down the polishing cloth. He cleared his throat. "What… what are you doing here?"

"I'm worried about you. We've hardly heard from you in nearly a week and Ginny hasn't heard from you at all. That's what I'm doing here. What's going on, Harry?"

He sighed. A great big, deep, sigh.

Deep sighs were never a good sign coming from Harry… Hermione bit her lip and waited.

"I'm sorry that I've been so… so antisocial. I just… I needed some time to think things over."

"Think things over?" she asked, though she suspected she already knew what he'd say.

"Ginny said I needed to shape up if we were going to stay together."

"Right."

"Well, that's the problem," Harry said, sitting down on the bleachers. Hermione sat next to him, hugging her coat tighter to her, waiting. "Hermione… I don't know if I can… 'shape up,' or whatever it is that she wants me to do."

"What are you talking about, Harry? That's ridiculous…"

"No, it's not," he countered, looking at her. "Hermione, my past is part of who I am. From how my parents died to how I defeated the one who killed them. It's me. All of it."

"But Harry, you're more than your past…"

"I know that," he cut her off, "but it's still there. It's never leaving. My children will grow up reading about me in history books. How can I hide from them what I am, what I've done?"

There was silence for a moment.

"Harry, I don't think Ginny really meant for you to pretend none of it ever happened…"

"Of course she didn't, but this is an all or nothing deal!" he exclaimed. "I mean sure I don't think me spending twelve hours overnight at a bar is going to become a regular thing," he admitted, "but I will always have these demons in my past. They will always be there. It's not something I can just… just 'get over'."

"And Ginny wants to know that you're totally here. In the present. With her. Not reliving your past. That's it, right?" Hermione asked.

"That's it."

Silence again.

"Ginny deserves someone who can give her all the attention she needs. She grew up the youngest in her family, with half a dozen older brothers. She's had to live with split attention long enough."

"Harry… are you saying…"

"Yes, Hermione," he sighed. "I love her. I always will. But the Boy Who Lived, with all his fame and glory and troubled past, isn't what Ginny needs in her life. Especially not when she isn't willing to accept the demons that come with him."


	20. Superbug

**Chapter 20**

_Superbug_

* * *

**MYSTERY VIRUS PLAGUES SCOTLAND**

_HOGWARTS STUDENTS AND STAFF AMONG THOSE INFECTED_

_The new superbug that has been steadily making its way through Scotland over the last several weeks has finally slithered into the walls of Hogwarts, the most prestigious wizarding school in the British Isles. Resident Healer Madame Pomphery believes that it was transmitted into the school via the students' most recent trip into Hogsmeade this past weekend._

"_We should have stopped all excursions outside the grounds as soon as this thing was discovered, if you ask me," Pomphery stated. "It was bound to travel into the school with students exposed to all those people in the village."_

_When asked about containing the virus, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall assured reporters that the Hogwarts potions professor, Horace Slughorn, has developed a very effective immunizing potion, which he has agreed to produce and distribute for free to any other wizarding families in Scotland who wish to be protected from the superbug, which causes delirium, intense headaches, and eventually reduces the infected person to a comatose state._

_At present, Hogwarts has reported three members of staff (Herbology professor Pomona Sprout, Charms professor Filius Flitwick, and Defense Against the Dark Arts professor Hadrian Maelyss) and ten students (whose names have not been released) have succumbed to the illness and have been transported to St. Mungo's for ongoing treatment, where the top resident Healers are collaborating with all relevant Ministry of Magic departments to develop a cure to this strange illness that only seems to affect magical blood. (The Muggle Research Department of the Ministry of Magic has not yet detected any sign of this unique illness in the non-magical community.)_

_Curiously, of the several dozen reported cases so far, none of the victims have had muggle parents or grandparents. While it is still too early to officially claim that the presence of non-magical blood in a wizard or witch's parentage is a definitive immunizer to the virus, it is an interesting correlation to be noted and is being considered by those working to combat the bug._

"For being Valentine's Day, the Daily Prophet sure is depressing today, isn't it?" remarked Ron, setting the paper down on his desk. "Did you see the article about that virus hitting Hogwarts?"

"Yes, I read it this morning, I found it incredibly fascinating…"

"Fascinating! People could die from this, Hermione!"

"Well of course the circumstances are absolutely horrifying, but no one has died yet, and it's extremely interesting that it doesn't seem to affect muggle blood – particularly the fact that any significant trace of muggle blood in your parentage means your body rejects the virus…"

"Well, lucky for you then," Ron grumbled. "I'm afraid to even shake hands with anyone, now."

Ron, being from a long line of pure-blooded wizards, was without a doubt a prime candidate to contract the bug.

"Well as for right now it's contained to Scotland and, fortunately for us, we live and work in London, over 500 kilometers from the Scotland border," Hermione reassured him. "Besides, I think we have more important things to worry about, being that it's Valentine's Day…"

"Oh, right. Do you want to go out to dinner?" Ron offered.

"You tell me you love me every day, I don't need a special dinner to assure me of that," Hermione scoffed. "I was _referring_ to the fact that we have two friends who are sure to be lonely and depressed being surrounded by reminders of the fact that they are no longer in a happy relationship."

"And?"

Hermione looked at the ceiling and let out a frustrated breath. "_And_, I think it's only appropriate if we spend some time with them so neither of them wallows themselves into a lonely and depressed oblivion."

"Oh. Right," was all Ron said.

It wasn't exactly a pleasant thought, Hermione agreed, but she knew that neither Harry nor Ginny would be keen on spending the evening alone… whether or not either of them actually was willing to admit it.

It had been a little over two weeks since Harry had broken his engagement with Ginny. Though it hadn't been pretty at first, they had eventually been able to talk it out to a point that they both seemed to be okay with the decision. It had taken some convincing, but in the end Ginny came around to agree with Harry and even said that she wasn't sure she was ready for marriage yet at all, whether it was to Harry or not. Recalling Ginny's propensity not that long ago to be bouncing from guy to guy and the way she (according to Fred) still eyed up the seventh-year Hogwarts boys in the shop, Hermione was inclined to agree with this sentiment. Not, of course, that she ever thought Ginny would be unfaithful, but it seemed clear that she wasn't fully ready to settle down and leave her fun-filled, carefree days behind.

Ron was still a little righteously indignant towards Harry, though, no matter how many times Ginny tried to assure him that she was "perfectly fine" without him. Things had been icy between the Ron and Harry at first, but Ron was slowly warming back up.

"Well, it's five o' clock… do you want to go home and have dinner first, or…?" Hermione offered, but there was a knock on the office door and it opened before either of them could say "come in."

Simon stood in the doorway, looking as tough and intimidating as ever.

"Evening Granger, Weasley," he said curtly, nodding at both of them. "I'm glad I caught you before you left; Weasley, I need to see you in my office briefly."

Ron paled a little. "Sir?"

"You haven't done anything against policy, so don't worry about that," Simon assured him, "but this might take a little while, so Granger, you might want to head out instead of waiting up."

Hermione glanced at Ron. "I guess I'll just head straight to Harry's, then?"

"Sure," said Ron, still not fully convinced he wasn't in trouble for something as he followed Simon out the office door. "I'll see you at home later," he called, as he disappeared.

Furrowing her brow at what Simon could want with Ron, Hermione gathered her things and headed for the Atrium to floo to Harry's home in the suburbs.

* * *

"I'm fine, Hermione. Really. You should be spending the evening with Ron."

She had expected this response – Harry had always been a martyr – but she was determined.

"Ron and I are one hundred percent okay with spending the evening apart," Hermione clipped from across the kitchen table, "and besides, he was delayed at the office, anyway."

"Delayed? Why?"

"No idea, but it seemed important, at least according to the look on Simon's face when he summoned him."

Of course, the last time Ron had been summoned to Simon's office when he'd had that look on his face, he'd been about to be sent to Germany on a mission to catch a few dozen illegal potions buyers single handedly, so Hermione figured it was a reasonable bet that this was something equally as important, though she hoped it was less dangerous.

"Well, since you're insistent on being here," Harry said, but he smiled, "What would you like to do?"

Hermione hesitated. She hadn't really thought much about the evening's activities, just that she knew Harry shouldn't be alone.

When she didn't offer any suggestions, Harry spoke.

"My original plan for the evening was to head to Diagon Alley and see if I could find some new Quidditch supplies for the boys," he said. "The Bludgers are getting especially beat up – no pun intended – and the Quaffle has a few small tears in the leather."

As disinterested as Hermione was in Quidditch, her goal had been to keep Harry's spirits up, so if going shopping for Quidditch equipment was what he wanted to do, then that's what they'd do.

"That sounds – Harry," she stopped, staring at the kitchen window. "Harry, you've got an owl."

Sure enough, a handsome light grey eagle owl was hovering outside the glass.

Harry tilted his head. "That's odd, I wasn't expecting anything. I don't recognize the owl, either," he said, opening the window so the owl could come in. It landed gracefully on the back of a kitchen chair and stuck out its leg, an envelope of thick parchment attached to it. Harry untied the letter and scanned the front.

"_Mr. H. Potter_," he read off, and chuckled. "Funny, I haven't had a letter addressed to me like that since…" but he trailed off as he flipped the envelope over.

"Since what, Harry?" Hermione prodded.

"Since I got my Hogwarts acceptance letter…" Harry finished. "Which makes perfect sense, since this is the Hogwarts seal."

"The Hogwarts seal?" Hermione repeated, taking the envelope and examining the thick red wax seal on the back. "Why would Hogwarts be sending you something?"

"No idea," he replied, staring out the window as Hermione flipped the envelope over and read the inscription on the front. "Hang on, there's another one coming…" he said, leaning toward the window that he had closed only a few moments previously. Hermione looked up and saw that, yes, a brown barn own was now headed straight for Harry's kitchen window. He opened the window again just in time and the owl soared in and perched itself on another vacant kitchen chair. This envelope, too, had a Hogwarts seal.

"How very curious…" Hermione mumbled, as Harry retrieved the other envelope and flipped it over.

"Curious, indeed," Harry affirmed, "because this one is addressed to Ms. H. Granger."

"What?" Hermione gasped, setting Harry's letter down and taking the envelope from his hands. "But how…"

"They're owls, Hermione," Harry said. "You know how they are. They know where to find people even if they aren't home."

"Well, of course, but, for both of us to have letters from Hogwarts…"

"The only way to find out why is to open them," Harry said, "or had you planned on just sitting here and wondering what was inside for an hour?"

Hermione glared at him, then turned her attention to her envelope, carefully slitting it open and pulling out the letter inside.

_Ms Granger:_

_I certainly hope things are finding you well over the last few years. I am writing today to ask a very difficult and time-consuming favor from you, but I hope you'll give it due consideration._

_As I'm sure you have heard, an illness has rendered three of our staff members incapable of teaching, including Filius Flitwick. There is no telling how long he will be staying in St. Mungo's, and we simply do not have the additional staffing needed to continue having current teachers substituting for his class for an undetermined period of time. The only remaining Head of House, Horace Slughorn, and I, along with the board of directors, have made the decision to call in temporary replacements for all of the teachers affected._

_As the most seasoned wizards and witches in the Ministry of Magic are currently working to find a cure for this disease, the duty was left to me to find talented and intelligent replacements outside of these circles. I naturally cast about in my head for my most successful past students, and I was immediately certain that you would be perfectly well qualified for a temporary Charms teacher._

_If you are in agreement with this position and understand that it is for an undetermined period of time and realize all of the duties that go with it, please send a return owl immediately. Take a few days to make arrangements at home, and report to Hogwarts this Saturday, the 18__th__ of February._

_Best regards,_

_Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress_

Hermione stared at the letter for a moment before speaking.

"Harry…"

She looked up and saw he was still reading. Biting her lip, she waited for him to finish. When he finally looked up at her, she could almost see the thousand different emotions bouncing around in his eyes.

"Hermione… your letter…"

"I have a feeling your letter probably looks a lot like mine," Hermione said. She took a deep breath. "I've been asked to stand in as the temporary replacement Charms professor at Hogwarts, since Flitwick is in St. Mungo's."

"And I've been asked to replace Hadrian Maelyss in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

There was a full minute of silence, then…

"Well, what are you going to say?" Hermione prodded.

"I'm going to say yes, obviously," said Harry, as if she should have known. "Hermione, this is perfect. It gets me out of here. It…" He hesitated and swallowed, then finished. "It gets me back home…"

Hermione was quiet.

"Don't tell me you're thinking of saying no!" he exclaimed. "Hermione… you're so smart, you were always the best in our year! If there's ever someone who was born to be a teacher, it's you!"

"Harry, it's… it's not that simple… I have a job, I have Ron…"

"I'm sure, given the circumstances, that Simon would understand your reason for taking a few weeks of leave."

"I'm not so certain," she said. "After all, with me gone, it would leave only Ron, since you'll be gone, too."

"Hermione, there's plenty of other Aurors under Simon who can pick up your workload, I'm sure the Auror office would be fine…"

"Yes, but Ron… being away from him for so long… after we just went through all of that Germany nonsense…"

Harry paused and considered this, and he had to admit, that was a stumbling block he hadn't thought of. For him, going to Hogwarts allowed him to be busy and be distracted from thoughts of his failed relationship with Ginny. Hermione and Ron were still together. It would be hard for them to be apart for so long again.

"All right, look," Harry said, "let me just send a return owl and then we can go to Diagon Alley and get your mind off it for a bit. Then you can go home and discuss it with Ron and come to a decision together."

Knowing that Ron was going right from work back to the Burrow to be with Ginny, Hermione knew it would do no good to go home right then since he wouldn't be there, and agreed.

* * *

Later that evening, when Hermione arrived home, Ron was sitting on the couch waiting for her.

"Hermione!" he said, and jumped up to kiss her.

"Hello to you, too," she said, eyeing him curiously. "Why such a boisterous mood?"

"I have some really, really good news! Really exciting!" he exclaimed.

"Well isn't that interesting," she said, "I have news, as well…"

"Really!" he said. "Well then, you first, let's hear it!"

"No, no, you're clearly really excited about this, tell me yours first," she said, absolutely positive that this had everything to do with him being in Simon's office earlier today.

"If you're sure…" he said, but didn't wait for her affirmation before announcing, "Simon's offered me a new position!"

"What!" she gasped, then, "Ron… Ron, that's wonderful! What's the position?"

He leaned down and kissed her before standing up straight and proudly saying, "I have been offered a position on a team of Aurors that are going to be working as an ambassador team to Germany. Living on a wizarding base for all the European nations' ambassadors!"

Hermione blinked, her mouth opening slightly.

"You know, since I've… since I've been in Germany and worked there and all…" he trailed off.

"So, this position would… would have you… move. Move to Germany."

"Well… yeah."

"Again."

"…yes," he said, now seeming uncertain. "But I mean, it won't be like last time, I'll be allowed to come home on the weekends and stuff…"

"And how long has Simon given you to consider this offer?" she demanded.

He swallowed.

"Hermione, I… I already accepted…"

Quite suddenly, Hermione felt her stomach disappear. Ice replaced where it had been. Cold, hard, uncomfortable ice.

Here she had been prepared to carefully discuss this Hogwarts offer with him, to lay everything on the table, to see if it was best for them as a couple…

And he had just accepted a job that would move him several countries away. Without consulting her, or even thinking of her, at all.

She took a deep, steadying breath in. Well, she supposed that made the Hogwarts decision a whole lot easier now…

Sensing the iciness, Ron carefully said, "You, er… you said you had news, too," he reminded her. "What was it?"

"You remember the paper this morning? How several Hogwarts teachers have been taken ill with this virus going around?" she asked.

"Yeah…"

"Well, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was one of them, and Harry's been asked to take his place temporarily. He's accepted."

"What! That's bloody brilliant!" Ron said in disbelief. "I mean, Harry's a great teacher, of course, his bit with Dumbledore's Army in fifth year was excellent, but… to be a real Hogwarts professor… that's… that's good stuff, right there."

"Yes, well, that's not all," Hermione pushed on, ignoring the ice getting ever colder in her stomach.

"Oh?"

"McGonagall also offered up the Charms position. To me. This afternoon."

Ron's eyebrows skyrocketed. "Hermione! That's… that's…"

"And I've accepted."


	21. Hogwarts

**Note**: For those of you who happened to miss this (though I don't think it's slipped by the nose of ANY halfway decent Harry Potter fan) JKR admitted over last weekend that she should have put Harry and Hermione together and that Ron was all wrong for Hermione and they'd probably have ended up in marriage counseling. (And, fun fact, Emma Watson, who was the one interviewing her, AGREED, and said that she felt Ron couldn't have truly given her what Hermione actually wanted.)

So THERE YOU HAVE IT. Harry and Hermione is how it was REALLY supposed to be. Directly from the author.

I think it's safe to say that news was the highlight of my week and even more of a motivator to keep going with this.

* * *

**Chapter 21**

**_Hogwarts_**

* * *

Small clumps of snow lingered in patches on the sidewalks of Hogsmeade. Harry and Hermione carefully stepped around them as they walked toward the entrance of the small town, Hogwarts looking as big and powerful as ever in the background. Their trunks floated in front of them, Harry and Hermione each suspending their own with their respective wands.

"I've never seen Hogsmeade so desolate," Harry remarked. "Not to be cliché, but… it's like a ghost town…"

Even as he said it, the caretaker of Zonko's joke shop slammed the door shut as they passed.

"It's the virus, Harry. Even with Slughorn's immunization potion, I'm sure people are still scared," Hermione suggested. "I looked it up, the wizarding community hasn't seen anything like this in over a hundred years. At least not in the British Isles."

"Well, at least we've both got muggle blood in us," Harry supplied hopefully.

When they reached the castle gates, two of the Hogwarts house elves appeared in front of them.

"Howdy-do, Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger!" squeaked the first. Harry recognized her as Winky, the house elf that had served the Crouch family and then been freed to work in the Hogwarts kitchens.

"Hello Winky," he said, smiling. "Good to see you!"

"Master Potter, Miss Granger," said the other, bowing his head.

"Kreacher!" said Hermione, before Harry could say anything. "Oh, Kreacher, how are you?"

"Kreacher has never been better," he drawled. Harry remembered telling Kreacher after the war that he would rather have him stay at Hogwarts than to live with him in England. He felt Kreacher would be far less bored and have much more to do at Hogwarts. Kreacher had obeyed, as he had to, but Harry knew Kreacher's loyalty would always be to him.

"Winky will take Mister Potter and Miss Granger inside the castle and Kreacher is happy to take your trunks to your quarters!" Winky said, positively beaming. Kreacher gave a slow nod and snapped his fingers – and then quite suddenly, he and both of their trunks were gone.

Winky was looking up at Harry and Hermione expectantly, holding up her hands.

"No time to waste, Winky has orders to bring you to the headmistress as soon as possible!" she chirped.

"Well come on, then," Hermione barked at Harry, and they each grabbed one of Winky's hands.

Within seconds, they were standing in Dumbledore's office. _No, no, it's McGonagall's office now,_ Harry reminded himself. He sighed inwardly – he doubted he would ever stop thinking of it as Dumbledore's. He scanned the room briefly and his eyes landed on Dumbledore's sleeping portrait. As he was examining it, he saw the portrait of Dumbledore open one eye, raise an eyebrow, and smile at him. Harry smiled back before jumping at the sound of Professor McGonagall's voice.

"Thank you, Winky, that will be all."

"Of course, Madame," squeaked the house elf, and disappeared.

Professor McGonagall stepped fluidly around Harry and Hermione, stopping in front of her desk and facing them. It had only been four years, but Harry couldn't believe how much older she looked. She still carried herself with dignity, to be sure, but either the years that passed or the strains of being headmistress – or perhaps both – had definitely taken their toll on her and showed in the deeper lines on her face.

"Let me start by thanking you both for agreeing to do this on such short notice," she began.

"Absolutely, Professor," Harry said.

"Minerva will do," she said, and smiled. "While I appreciate the respect, I am no longer your teacher."

"Of course, sorry…"

He glanced over at Hermione, who was looking avidly at McGonagall and paying rapt attention. Naturally, as soon as she was back inside the castle, Hermione was fully and totally in her element. He could hardly believe she had been considering declining the offer.

"Now, as you both know, you're here on a temporary assignment," she began. "As yet, we do not know when any of the ill teachers will return. St. Mungo's has not yet made much progress on a cure for the virus, so I'd venture to say you can expect to be here for several weeks, at the very least."

They both nodded.

"I have taken the liberty of compiling the assignments that have already been completed this year by each student level in your respective subjects, so you have an idea of where to start," she continued. "I suggest you take the weekend to start beginning on lesson plans…"

A loud _pop_ interrupted her. Winky had returned, bearing another guest.

"Neville!" Hermione cried, and jumped onto him. Harry could hardly believe his eyes as he watched Neville wrap his arms around Hermione to return the hug.

"Hey Hermione, Hey Harry!" he said, as Hermione disentangled herself. Harry pulled him into a hug as well.

"Neville, what are you…" Harry started, but McGonagall interrupted.

"Mr. Longbottom has agreed to fill the empty Herbology position," she explained. "Professor Sprout always had nothing but wonderful things to say about you even after you left Hogwarts," she said to Neville, and he beamed his usual crooked smile.

"As I was saying, you'll have the weekend to work on some lesson plans. Your belongings should have already been taken to your quarters in the teacher's corridor on the fifth floor. Ordinarily we have staff meetings on the first of every month, but we'll be having one tomorrow afternoon to re-acquaint you with the staff and with the teacher's policies here at Hogwarts."

Hermione looked like she might be about to say something, but the sound of the office door opening behind them cut her short.

"About time, Horace!" McGonagall chided. Harry turned around to see Professor Slughorn making his way into the office, with three small vials in his hand.

"So sorry, Minerva, this last batch took a little longer than expected to mature…" he said. Turning his gaze to Harry, he continued. "Harry, m'boy! So good to see you, glad to have you back with us in the castle. And you, as well, Hermione!"

"Thank you, sir," they both replied, out of habit.

"And you… er, Newton, was it?" Slughorn stumbled, looking at Neville.

"Neville," he corrected him.

"Ah, yes, right right, can't remember everyone anymore, my memory's starting to go!" he said, and then looked back at McGonagall. "None of the three of them have been around anyone since arriving, have they?"

"It is my assumption that all three went straight through Hogsmeade and were brought directly into my office from the castle entrance," McGonagall supplied. "I trust none of you spoke to or saw anyone while in the village?" she asked them. All of them shook their heads to say no.

"Wonderful! I'll just need the three of you to all drink up, then…" Slughorn said, passing out the vials. "This is the immunizing potion that the rest of the castle has taken."

"But Hermione and I have muggle parentage," Harry said. "We shouldn't need it, should we?"

Neville, who had drank his vial almost before Slughorn's hand had left it, said, "I don't know about you, but my parents and my gran are all pureblood, so I could definitely use it!"

"Besides, we'd better not take any chances," added Hermione, and drank hers as well. Shrugging, Harry also knocked it back. It was relatively tasteless, thank goodness.

"Now, there's one more thing that needs arranging," McGonagall said. "We have named Rolanda Hooch as our temporary Hufflepuff Head of House and Septima Vector as the temporary Head of Ravenclaw House. However, we have no remaining teachers that resided in Gryffindor House during their time here as students, besides myself, to name Head of Gryffindor House in the absence of Hadrian Maelyss. As I cannot be both Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House, we must name someone, and as I'm sure you've guessed, it needs to be one of you three."

Harry raised his eyebrows and caught a glance of Hermione, whose eyes had gotten much wider. On her other side, Neville looked absolutely petrified.

"However," she continued, "since I would rather not put any additional strain on someone who might not want it, I will leave it up to you three to decide which of you would rather take on that responsibility."

Neville spoke up immediately, turning to Harry and Hermione. "I think either one of you would be way better of a choice than me."

"Absolutely it should be Harry!" piped up Slughorn, putting an arm around Harry's shoulders. "He's a born leader, aren't you, Harry?"

"Hermione also has a great deal of intelligence and talent," McGonagall reminded him. "If Neville truly doesn't want the responsibility, I am sure that Harry and Hermione will make a decision that best fits them both."

Harry and Hermione gave each other a sideways glance. This was an unexpected turn of events, to be sure.

"If you two could let me and the rest of the staff know your decision by tomorrow at the meeting, that would be perfect," McGonagall finished. "Now, I believe that's everything we needed… Winky will lead you to the teacher's corridor. We have spent the last few days removing all the personal items of their previous occupants and moving them to their wards at St. Mungo's, so you should find them all rather empty except for the furniture."

Winky had appeared as soon as McGonagall had said her name.

"Winky will show you the way!" she chirped, and beckoned them all to follow her out of the office.

Eventually, they arrived at a portrait of a knight atop a horse, carrying his helmet under his arm. Upon seeing them, he smiled and said, "Ah! You must be the newcomers! Sir Benedict Wedgemore, at your service!"

"Sir Benedict is very nice," explained Winky, beaming up at Harry, Hermione, and Neville. "The password for this week is Elysium, but it will change tomorrow!"

"Why tomorrow?" asked Neville.

"The headmistress changes it at every staff meeting," Sir Benedict explained, still smiling. "Enjoy your stay," he added, swinging inward and allowing them into the corridor.

Unlike the four Houses, which all had common rooms, this portrait led only to an empty hallway.

"Heads of Houses all have rooms on the right," said Winky, and let them to the end of the corridor.

"But McGonagall said only one of us would be Head of House," objected Neville.

"It was less complicated for the Headmistress to simply put you into the rooms of the teachers you would be replacing," Winky explained, "especially since the true Heads of Houses should be eventually returning." In front of them were four doors. On the far left was a green door, with a wooden plaque that had SLUGHORN engraved on it, encircled by a snake.

Next was a golden door, with the engraving SPROUT. A badger sat atop the plaque. Beneath it, a piece of parchment was affixed to the door that said "LONGBOTTOM."

After that was a blue door, engraved with FLITWICK. An eagle with its wings outstretched was over the plaque, as if it were carrying it in flight. The parchment on this door was marked "GRANGER."

Finally, on the far right, was a deep red door with a plaque that said MAELYSS. A lion crouched on the top of this one, as if ready to pounce. And, of course, there was a parchment underneath marked "POTTER."

It was actually quite surreal, once Harry started thinking about it. It might only be temporary, but seeing that door with his name on it… it was almost other-worldly.

"The headmistress plans to formally introduce masters Potter and Longbottom and madame Granger to the school at dinner tomorrow evening, so until then, Winky will bring meals to you here!" she said. "Call if you have need of anything, anything at all!"

And she vanished.

"Is this really happening?" Neville asked. "Us… teachers?"

He was staring avidly at the yellow door.

"I'm having trouble wrapping my head around it, too," Harry admitted.

"What do you think, Hermione?" Neville asked. When she didn't immediately respond, Harry looked over at her and saw that she was biting her lip and appeared to be fighting back tears.

"I'm… I'm going to go look at my room," she choked out, and then disappeared through the blue door.

Harry and Neville both stared at the spot where she had been.

"So happy she could cry?" Neville suggested.

Harry, though he had the feeling that it was quite the opposite, said, "Yeah, I guess," and then went through the red door.

He was met by what looked like a miniaturized version of the Gryffindor common room. Red and gold plated paper adorned the walls. There was a roaring fireplace to the right with a huge cherry mantle piece and a large cherry desk next to it, and to the left was an enormous four-poster bed with red dressings accompanied by a cherry wardrobe. Unlike the twin-sized beds for students, however, this one was a king-size. Directly across from him, on the far wall, were two French doors leading to a balcony. The gold curtains were open, and he could see the sun setting over the vast lake that was home to so many creatures, including the thousands of merpeople that had held Ron and Hermione captive in his fourth year during the Triwizard tournament…

Hermione…

Assuming that Neville wasn't still standing out in the corridor alone staring at his yellow door, Harry turned around and peeked his head out of his door. Seeing that it was empty, he stepped over to Hermione's door and gently knocked.

"Hermione? It's me… Are you okay?"

There was no vocal answer, but he heard the lock click and the door opened a crack. He hesitantly pushed it open to see Hermione sitting on a king-size four-poster bed just like his. In fact, her room looked identical to his, except everything was dressed in blue and silver instead of red and gold.

Hermione was sitting with her feet dangling off the edge, staring down at her hands, clutching her wand. Not sure what to say, Harry simply sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. She angrily wiped at the tears staining her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I'm sorry…"

"Hermione, why? What do you have to be sorry for?"

"For crying, for being so sensitive and stupid…"

Harry said nothing.

"I just… I can't believe this is happening. Again," she said flatly.

"I… I don't…"

"We're apart!" she shrieked, and pulled away to look Harry in the eyes. "This stupid godforsaken position he's accepted in Germany… the bloody bastard doesn't even _care_…"

Suddenly it made more sense. He remembered Hermione telling him that after she'd gone home to discuss things with Ron, he'd told her he'd be moving to Germany, and hadn't consulted her on the decision. So she was not only upset that she was now apart from Ron, but that he seemed to care so little that they were, indeed, separated by his choice. Harry had a feeling Hermione would never have so brazenly accepted McGonagall's offer if she didn't know that Ron would have been leaving in a few weeks for Germany. He was still home in London for now, but he would be leaving after the following week.

"Hermione, I'm sure he cares, don't say that…"

"He's been _different_ ever since he's been home. Haven't you noticed?" she demanded. Having not had a whole lot of time alone with Ron in the month he'd been home, Harry felt he wasn't exactly well equipped to answer that question.

"What do you mean?"

"It's… it's like it was after that stupid Quidditch match. The one where you pretended to give him Felix Felicis. After he was so haughty and arrogant and just… ugh!"

Yes, Harry vividly remembered that day, but not because of the way Ron had been acting after the match…

"_I'm never going to leave you, Harry," Hermione whispered. Harry swore she was getting closer to him._

"_I know…" he whispered back. Was he getting closer to her? Was that just his imagination?_

"_Harry…"_

"_Hermione…"_

_He watched her eyes flutter closed and his followed suit as their lips touched hesitantly…_

Realizing Hermione was still talking, he struggled to bring himself out of the memory of that stolen kiss in the Astronomy tower.

"He's just… all he talks about is how he can't wait to go on another mission, or how he's sorry he can't tell me about it, or about exactly how _dangerous_ it was… As if we haven't all been through dangerous crap in the last ten years… No, somehow this was _different_, it was _better_, because for once, _he _was the hero…"

Harry furrowed his brow and was glad Hermione wasn't looking at him so she couldn't see his reaction. This was going in a direction he didn't think was entirely accurate.

"Hermione…"

Not caring about whatever it was Harry was going to say (and he wasn't exactly sure what he'd planned on, anyway), she kept going. She was now pacing back and forth while Harry sat helpless on the bed.

"He's just… he's lived in the shadow of his older brothers his whole childhood, and then he gets a chance to go to school and prove himself, and who does he meet and befriend but bloody _Harry James Potter_, the savior of the whole godforsaken wizarding world, and then he has to endure his adolescence being the lackey of The Boy Who Lived…"

"Hey!"

"Of course I'm not blaming you at all," she plowed on, still not caring to look at him. "You did everything you did because you had to, you didn't want fame or glory, but we both know Ron didn't always see it that way…"

Harry's memory uncomfortably shifted to the day that Ron had pulled him out of that lake in the Forest of Dean and he'd been confronted with the locket. Hadn't the shred of Voldemort's soul inside it sadistically looked into Ron's heart, seen how jealous he was of Harry, and tormented him? Hadn't it tried to say Harry was better, even that the woman he loved preferred Harry to him?

And then something occurred to Harry that he'd never thought of before.

The locket had been in the tent that night. The night he and Hermione had… by the fire… it was there. Had it… somehow… known? Had it not shown them to Ron, embracing, kissing… just the way they really had, lying by the fire… Harry shuddered to think what more the locket might have shown if Ron hadn't destroyed it.

And what had Harry said, after Ron had smashed the stupid, tormenting thing… while his best friend was crying and Harry was just feeling grateful the night by the fire was not the night Ron chose to be a hero, he'd assured Ron he only loved Hermione as a sister.

In retrospect, though, he probably did still believe that back then. He and Hermione had, only a few weeks ago, agreed to chalk up that experience to raging hormones, loneliness, and being petrified of death.

Quite suddenly, he was tripped up on the fact that he'd just admitted to himself that he loved Hermione as quite a lot more than a sister, by feeling guilty for thinking he'd lied to Ron about saying it was only platonic then, and then assuring himself that, _then_, it was platonic, but now…

"Are you even listening to me?"

He wasn't entirely sure of what she'd said while he'd been lost in thought, but he was fairly certain it couldn't have deviated very much from the train she'd been on, so he attempted to craft a response.

"Hermione, I had no idea Ron was acting like this. It might be just a phase. It might not. But if it keeps up, you need to … to talk to him about it or something. Make him understand that he's been a prick. He might have had to live… in my shadow, so to speak, while we were teenagers but… he's his own person now. He's allowed to have his own accomplishments without feeling like he's competing with me, and if he really feels that way, he's got it all wrong."

It was unbelievable how much the past was coming back to haunt them all in the last few weeks. Voldemort might be dead, but their memories were clearly all alive and well.

"I know I need to talk to him, but how am I supposed to do that now that I'm here and in a week he'll be in Germany? Any time I see him I'll just be so glad to spend time with him, the last thing I'll want to do is start a row…"

Harry took a deep breath and stood up. Slowly, he walked toward Hermione and gently removed her wand from her hand. He placed it on the bedside table, and then wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly to him. She sighed and seemed to melt into him, allowing her body to relax into his.

"Just try and relax, Hermione," Harry said quietly. "Tomorrow is a big day, and it's a big deal that we're here. You've got to be focused and not worry about what's going on everywhere else. And if there's anyone I know who can focus, it's you."

"Speaking of focus, we still have to decide which of us is going to be Head of House," she mumbled.

"We actually have to talk about that?" Harry asked incredulously. "I thought it was understood that we were going to say you were doing it."

Affronted, she pulled away and looked at him. "That's nonsense, Harry! You're the absolute embodiment of a Gryffindor, there's no reason you couldn't be Head of House."

He wasn't sure about the whole "embodiment of Gryffindor" bit, but he'd let that one go.

"But Heads of House are supposed to take charge, to be able to make decisions and lead students," he countered. "You're far better at decision making and taking charge."

"Says the man who led Dumbledore's Army and defeated Voldemort," she shot back, but there was more pride in her voice than malice. "Harry, you are who all those little first years would _want_ as a Head of House. Everyone in this castle has grown up hearing about you. The older ones were here at the same time that you were, they were the first and second years in your fifth and sixth year. Some of them might even have seen you kill him that night."

Harry wasn't sure what to say.

"It's you they want to see, Harry," she said. "You've been the natural leader of Gryffindor House since the moment the Sorting Hat put you there ten years ago."

"Just because I'm who they want doesn't mean I'd do a good job of it," he grumbled, but he knew that was a weak defense in the face of all the things she'd just tossed at him.

"Harry, I'm just a teacher. I'm intelligent, I'm bossy, I'm organized," she said. "But you… You're a leader. You're brave, you're bold, you're self-assured. That's what makes a Head of House."

He thought about making the argument that most of his past successes were just luck, but he stopped. Hadn't it been Harry who had decided they were going down the trap door to find the Sorcerer's Stone? He who opened the Chamber of Secrets to save Ginny? He who dove into the Whomping Willow to save Ron's life when Sirius had dragged him in there as a dog? He who had consistently tried to save people he wasn't supposed to in the Triwizard tournament? He who had insisted on traveling to the Department of Mysteries? He who had been determined to find every last Horcrux that Voldemort had created and had tried to deny the offers of help from his friends in order to protect them?

Had he not been the one to walk into the Dark Forest, prepared to die for the greater good, and then be the one to kill Voldemort?

He might have had luck and help to _finish_ all of those things, but he sure as hell _started_ every one of them because of his own boldness and bravery.

"All right," he conceded. "I'll do it, but only because I know it's temporary."

For the first time since he'd been in her room, she smiled.


	22. Classes

**Chapter 22**

_Classes_

* * *

Harry still remembered the first time he ever walked into the Hogwarts Great Hall. It has seemed impossibly huge; it was such a giant, cavernous space that he was in awe of it for most of his first year. Naturally, as the years wore on, he got used to the grandeur, but the enormity of the space was never lost on him.

Now, sitting in front of hundreds of students, sitting at the head table and looking down at all of them all at once for the first time in his life, the Great Hall seemed far bigger than it ever had on that first day.

Hermione sat to his right, sitting up straight and looking as dignified as ever, but her hands were clenched tightly together in her lap.

To his left was Neville, who looked a little pale, but had clearly gained some confidence since their years in school. Harry suspected cutting the head off of a giant snake and standing up to Voldemort might have had something to do with that newfound assurance.

As much as he knew all three of them had tried to tell themselves that it wasn't a big deal, that this was only temporary, that they'd be here a few weeks and then be gone and the students would forget they ever existed, he was positive that all three of them sat there pretending to be calm and composed while they were all a bundle of nerves in their heads.

After all, it didn't seem like that long ago that the three of them were sitting on those very same benches and eating at those very same tables. It wasn't that long ago that they were just kids, too. Yet here they all were, each of them hardly past 20, and they were expected to teach eleven to seventeen year olds magic that was up to Hogwarts' high standards.

"Are you nervous, Harry?" Hermione asked him.

The Hall was still abuzz with chatter as the students were still filtering in and dinner had not yet been served. Harry realized it would be idiotic to think that at least some of them hadn't noticed the newcomers at the head table and pointed out who he was to their friends.

"A little," he responded.

"Me too."

"Me three," came Neville's voice.

Nervous or not, McGonagall stood up just then, and the Hall grew quiet.

"If I could have your attention, please!" she called, and the few students that had remained talking fell silent. "Before you enjoy your dinner this evening, I have some very important introductions to make! As you all know, we have been without Professors Sprout, Flitwick, and Maelyss for a little over a week, now. I certainly trust that Professors Vector and Hooch are doing a wonderful job heading Ravenclaw House and Hufflepuff House, but we were in desperate need of teachers for Herbology, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts in the absence of their normal professors. I am happy to say that we have found wonderful temporary replacements for these teachers, and they will begin teaching as of tomorrow morning. First, filling the empty Herbology position, is Professor Neville Longbottom."

There was mild applause as Neville stood from his seat and nodded awkwardly before sitting back down. Harry thought it sounded incredibly odd to have "Professor" attached to their names, but knew he'd have to get used to it.

"Next, taking the Charms position, is Professor Hermione Granger."

There was louder applause and a few cheers for her (Harry was sure some of the older students remembered her and her role in defeating Voldemort), and Hermione stood and beamed a nervous, but authentic smile, then returned to her seat.

"And finally, taking the place of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and also the temporary Head of Gryffindor House, is Professor Harry Potter."

The applause was deafening. Harry tried to resist the urge to cover his ears as he stood and gave a small wave and a nervous smile. Students all over the Great Hall were cheering, whistling, and cat calling. A few even stood up.

"You see, Harry?" Hermione whispered to him as he slunk back down into his seat. "They love you. They want to see you here!"

Harry, who felt he would never be used to the unusually large amounts of attention and fame, remained quiet.

"I'm sure all three of our new staff members are very thankful for your appreciation of their appointments. I have incredible confidence that they will bring a new level of depth to your lessons. Thank you for your brief attention, and enjoy your dinner."

As she sat down, food appeared on all of the tables and the students quickly began to tuck in. The expertly prepared food was definitely high on Harry's list of things he had missed most about Hogwarts, so despite his nerves, he helped himself to some of everything.

* * *

In an odd twist of fate, Harry and Hermione were unfortunate enough to have to begin their first Monday as professors by teaching N.E.W.T. level students. This wouldn't be quite as big of a problem if they had both actually attended their final year of school. Hermione, of course, had been at least a year ahead in her charms knowledge than she should have been for basically her entire school career, so Harry suspected she wouldn't have much of an issue. Harry, however, had learned a great deal of his Defense Against the Dark Arts experience in the real world, and he wasn't sure how well this would translate to a classroom setting.

After flipping through the book that had been assigned by Maelyss for N.E.W.T. level students (_Self Defense and The Dark Arts: An Analysis_) and comparing the chapters to the completed assignments McGonagall had given him, he deduced that Maelyss hadn't really been going in any particular order according to the book. So, he had decided to start the sixth years with the Patronus charm, as they had not appeared to have gone over it so far, and he figured most sixth years would be advanced enough to perform such demanding magic. It was also a spell he was very accustomed to teaching, because of his experience in fifth year with Dumbledore's Army.

It was the oddest feeling in the world, he thought, sitting at Hadrian Maelyss's desk and watching students filter in. He had seen so many professors sit at this very desk, and he'd had varying levels of distaste for all of them, except for Lupin. Harry could only hope to live up to Lupin's standard of teaching and not the rest of them.

Once everyone was at their desks and seated, Harry stood from the desk and walked to the center of the room. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe he should have practiced what he was going to say.

"Right, so, as you all probably know from dinner last night, my name is… Professor Potter…" he hesitated as he said it, as it still sounded so foreign to him, "and I'll be temporarily replacing Professor Maelyss until he returns from St. Mungo's."

All of the students just stared blankly. It was Monday morning, so Harry wasn't all that surprised at their lack of attention.

"I'm sorry that it's going to take me a while to learn your names and your skill level," he went on, "but seeing as you all had to have passed your O.W.L.s for Defense Against the Dark Arts with at least an Exceeds Expectations to be here, I'm sure you are all perfectly well qualified to tackle the spell I want to focus on this week."

A student in the back raised a hand and began talking before Harry could call on him.

"What did you get on your Defense O.W.L.?" he asked. Harry recognized the blue Ravenclaw tie. He was a burly looking guy, with sandy hair and broad shoulders.

"Would you mind telling me your name?" Harry countered.

"Goldstein, sir. Daniel Goldstein."

_Goldstein…_ Harry's brain picked up the name and recalled Anthony Goldstein, who had been a member of Dumbledore's Army. He'd also been in Ravenclaw.

"Anthony's younger brother?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's me," Daniel grumbled. Harry had the feeling Daniel might be held to some invisible expectation set by his brother.

"Anthony was in my year at Hogwarts. Good guy. And I got an Outstanding on my Defense O.W.L., by the way. But, since you're all here, your O.W.L. grades are not what matters to me," he said. "What matters is how well you can apply the knowledge that I teach you. So, can anyone tell me what a Dementor is?"

Several hands went up. Harry knew most of these students probably remembered how the Dementors had guarded the grounds several years ago when Snape was headmaster. Harry chose a girl in the front row to answer. She was in a Gryffindor tie and had a small frame with long, wavy brown hair.

"A Dementor is a non-being," she said. "They live by feeding on human happiness."

"Good," said Harry. "And your name?"

"Alice Clearwater, sir."

"Any relation to Penelope?" Harry asked.

"She's my cousin," Alice replied. "Did you know Penelope?"

"She was a few years above me," Harry answered. "Now, what does a Dementor look like?" he asked the class. Several hands went up again, and Harry called on a Hufflepuff boy near the center of the room. He was very good looking, with light brown hair, but he sat relaxed in his chair as if he was still wishing he were in bed.

"They're… they're really tall. And dark. And they sort of… float around. And they wear long black robes with hoods so you can't see their faces."

"Very good. Your name?" Harry was determined to at least try and learn some of their names by the end of the week.

"Michael Brackenshire."

"Excellent, thank you, Michael. And who can tell me what purpose Dementors serve?"

There were less hands on this one, so Harry called on Alice again.

"They guard Azkaban. They make it so miserable that the prisoners get incredibly weak, so they can't escape even if they tried."

"Right. A few people have managed to outsmart them, but it's not easy," Harry said. "When someone's committed a bad enough offense, they get sentenced to the Dementor's kiss. A Dementor can suck all the happiness out of a room, but they can also suck out your soul."

A few people made noises of disgust.

"After you've received the Dementor's kiss, you're still alive, but you're much like the Dementor itself. You're a non-being, a skeleton with meat still on its bones and a heart that pumps blood to an empty brain. Once you've received the Dementor's kiss, you're probably better off dead anyway. Dementors are indiscriminate creatures and it's only because of the power of the Ministry of Magic that they stay in Azkaban," Harry explained. "If they had their way, they'd roam around everywhere, sucking the happiness out of everyone they passed. Because of this, it's very important that you know how to defend yourself against a Dementor if you ever are unfortunate enough to come across one. Has anyone ever been in the same room with a Dementor?"

A girl to the right of the room slowly raised her hand.

"What's your name?" Harry asked. She was in a Ravenclaw tie, and her black hair was pulled back in a braid.

"Maria Oakwood, Professor," she said quietly.

"Do you mind telling us what it was like, what it felt like, when the Dementor was near you?"

"It was the worst feeling in the world," she started. "Everything went cold. My whole body felt like it had been turned to ice. And in my head… it was horrible. I heard… I saw… so many awful things…"

Harry interrupted her so she wouldn't get too distressed.

"Dementors force you to relive your very worst memories," he explained, "which makes it extremely difficult to fight them, since the spell you have to use requires you to focus your mind on a very happy memory. Which is why," he went on, "we'll be practicing without using a real Dementor. You'll have much better success in perfecting the technique when you aren't also petrified for your life."

Now that he'd started actually teaching, he realized it wasn't so bad.

"A fully powered patronus will take the form of an animal. Sometimes, the form your patronus takes is hereditary – it might be the same as one of your parents, like mine is. It can also be the same form as someone who is very close to you, like a best friend, or a lover." Harry paused a moment, remembering how Snape's Patronus had been the same as his mother's, a doe. "In the beginning, it might just be a white glow, or a shield, of sorts. These are also effective, but a truly powerful patronus charm is necessary to fend off more than one Dementor."

Daniel raised his hand and Harry called on him.

"What's your Patronus look like?"

He sure was a curious one, Harry thought.

"I'll show you," Harry replied. "Now, the incantation for the patronus charm is _expecto patronum_, but remember, it only works if you're focusing on a very powerful, extremely happy memory." He picked up his wand and took a deep breath, closing his eyes and searching his mind for a memory powerful enough. He hadn't had to cast a patronus charm in a while, and he wanted to make sure he gave a good demonstration. A few images flashed quickly through his brain, but it stopped at Hermione… the way she'd looked when she was on top of him, riding him, on Christmas Eve…

"_Expecto Patronum!"_

As he opened his eyes he saw his brilliant white-silver stag burst from the end of his wand and prance around the room, followed by gasps and cheers, before cantering back to Harry and slowly dissolving.

Harry, meanwhile, was trying desperately to clear his mind of the unexpectedly graphic image of Hermione naked on top of him.

"Right, so, everyone up, and let's clear these desks out of the way and have you pair up and start practicing…"

* * *

"So?" Hermione demanded, staring at Harry as he plopped down on his bed after dinner. "How was your first day?"

"Exhausting," he replied. "And yours?"

"I think it went rather well," she said. "Starting with the seventh years was a little daunting, but I went over the Undetectable Extension Charm with them, and then I had the sixth years, who had apparently just come from a riveting class with you. They were difficult to get under control but we worked on the Disillusionment charm with relative success. Then I just had to talk to the second years about how to use _Immobulus_ effectively, and after that my day was free."

"Lucky you," said Harry. "I started off with doing the Patronus charm with the sixth years, which was actually very promising. Right after them was first years, and I went over _Petrificus Totalus_ – they thought that was right hilarious. I had a break for the third period, then it was the second years. I taught them _Expelliarmus_ – couldn't belive Maelyss hadn't gone over that yet – and then talked with the third years about werewolves a little bit. By the time I got to the fifth years at the end of the day I barely had the energy to go over the theory of _Stupefy_ and _Levicorpus_."

"Wow, sounds like quite a full day," Hermione said, sitting next to him on the bed.

"Quite," he agreed. "Oh, and I had some idiot sixth year Slytherin come to me after class and tell me that Maelyss had been getting ready to start going over the Unforgivable Curses before he was taken ill…"

Hermione sighed. "Well, it was normally part of the sixth year curriculum to go over those," she said gently. "Crouch had his own reasons for doing what he did in fourth year while he was pretending to be Mad-Eye," she went on, when Harry tried to protest. "But the Unforgivables are something students have to know about and be aware of, Harry. You can't send them into the open world being ignorant of the three most powerful curses we know."

Harry was quiet for a moment.

"So how do you feel? Overall?" she pressed. "About teaching?"

"Surprisingly, I stopped being nervous as soon as I started," he said. "It just feels natural. Being here, being at Hogwarts, it's like it's where I belong. This has always been home to me."

Hermione smiled.

"What about you?" he returned. "You nearly didn't even come. How are you feeling about it all?"

He was pleasantly surprised to see her smile get wider. "I love it. I really do. It's stressful, but in the best sort of way, you know?"

Harry was reminded of the day in their first year when Hermione had exclaimed to them that she found their final exams to be enjoyable and not at all as dreadful as everyone had said they would be.

"Have you… have you heard from Ron at all?" he asked hesitantly. Her smile faded a little and she sighed.

"I got an owl from him his afternoon… he said he missed me and that he hoped my first day was going well, and then rambled on about how he's been packing for Germany and how Simon pulled him aside for a special lunch today with the other nations' ambassadors and how exciting it was…"

Her bitterness was not difficult to infer.

"Still upset at him?" Harry asked gently.

"I'm always upset at him, you know that," she said, but softened. "It's just… I don't know, this morning, while I was teaching, I just sort of… forgot about him. I was so focused on teaching that it made me forget I was angry or upset about the way he's been acting. And then that owl just brought it all back."

Harry put an arm around her shoulders.

"I'm glad you decided to come," he said. "I really think this will be good for you. For both of us. I'd so much rather have you here with me and doing something you love than stuck back home, alone."

"Oh you don't fool me, Harry Potter," she chided, smiling at him. "We both know you're just happy I'm here so you can ask me to grade papers for you."

"Yeah, sure, that's it, let's go with that," he replied, smiling back.

Maybe, just maybe, if he imagined long and hard enough, he could convince himself that they were back to their school days. Back to the days when everything was easier, when the worst that could happen was forgetting your homework or being late to class…

Back when feelings, and sex, and heartbreak, and memories… didn't get in the way.


	23. The Unforgivables

**Chapter 23**

_The Unforgivables_

* * *

Harry was beyond impressed with how their first week at Hogwarts had gone. Neville appeared to have found his true calling in life, as he was legitimately enjoying teaching and seemed to have forgotten any trace of the nerves he'd brought with him. Hermione was perfectly in her element, with the ability to be bossy and a know-it-all and have full permission to do so. (Though, Harry noted, she seemed a little heavy handed on the detentions she'd been handing out.) And, most surprising of all, he had been gaining rapid popularity amongst the students because of his hands-on method and easygoing teaching style.

Despite his generally good approval rating, he was still a little on edge about introducing the Unforgivables the following Monday morning. It was not an easy thing to talk about, and there were plenty of students in his sixth-year class that he was sure had family that had been affected in some way by any one of the three. After all, they were all alive during the war, and they were all students at Hogwarts the day that it finally ended. Surely some of them had parents, or aunts and uncles, or even older siblings, who might have been captured, tortured, or killed by Voldemort or his followers.

It was because of this sensitivity that Harry had cleared it with McGonagall (he didn't think he'd ever be able to call her Minerva) to talk about them in theory only, and not to perform any demonstrations – on students or any other living creature. Harry still remembered the pained look on Neville's face when Crouch-posing-as-Mad-Eye had used the Cruciatus curse on that spider in front of him.

Harry was standing at the front of the room leaning on his desk as the students came in. Once they were all there, he wasted no time in launching into the lesson. The longer he put it off, the less likely he'd be willing to do it.

"Happy Monday," he said, and was answered by a chorus of groans and grumbles. "Yes, I know, it's awful," he conceded. "But, all of you are here, and I assume you're all awake, so the lesson will go on regardless. Now, it was brought to my attention last week that Professor Maelyss was preparing to go over the Unforgivable curses with you."

There were a few nods of affirmation, including the smirking Slytherin in the back who'd pointed it out in the first place.

"I know there might be some of you who are already familiar with the Unforgivables," Harry continued, "but I'm sure there are others of you who are not, or at the very least have a fairly limited understanding of them. I am here to explain these curses, to tell you about what they do, and to help you know when you are in danger. I want to make it clear that I am by no means condoning the use of any one of these curses, and there will absolutely not be any demonstration of their use in this classroom."

Several Slytherins groaned. Harry ignored them. It shocked him that he was already getting so passionate about this.

"In the everyday world, the use of any of these curses, for any reason, is a surefire way to get yourself locked up in Azkaban for life," Harry went on. "If it's bad enough, you'd likely be sentenced to a Dementor's kiss."

Daniel, ever full of questions, raised his hand and, as usual, spoke before being called on.

"Have you ever performed one of the Unforgivables?"

Harry's stare was cold, and his stomach was icy. He had used two of the three; in Gringotts, when they were sneaking into Bellatrix's vault, he'd performed the Imperius curse twice to allow them passage, and then he'd used the Cruciatus curse on Amycus Carrow during the battle of Hogwarts. Though he had killed Voldemort, he had never actually cast the killing curse; he had merely forced Voldemort's own curse back onto him. Technically speaking, because Voldemort had taken over the Ministry, they hadn't been illegal when Harry had used them, as the Ministry had lifted the ban on their use, since it was corrupt.

Also, in Harry's opinion, all of those instances were perfectly justified, ban or not.

However, in the few seconds that he stared at Daniel, he decided that whether or not it was legal when he did it, the class didn't need to know that bit of his experience. It was a little difficult to successfully advocate never using the curses if you admitted you'd done it yourself.

"That," clipped Harry, "is none of the business of anyone in this class or any other class of students at Hogwarts," he said, and it came out a little sharper than he'd intended. This might have ended up being a good thing, as the effect resulting from it was a dead silent room. "So, now that we are clear on the illegality of the subject matter: there are three Unforgivable curses. All three of them require a great deal of magical power and feeling behind them in order to be cast successfully. Unlike many of the more benign charms we have available to us where merely saying the words and moving the wand correctly will achieve the desired result, the Unforgivables will not work unless you really mean what you're saying and you're an exceedingly powerful witch or wizard. This is somewhat similar to the Patronus charm we learned last week, in that the Patronus charm only works if you focus on a very powerful, happy memory. Merely saying the incantation without the focused thought process achieves very little."

The room remained silent, and Harry took this as a good thing.

"The first is known as the Imperius curse; the incantation is _Imperio_. This curse allows the caster to control the thoughts and actions of whomever the curse is cast upon. Taking away a person's free will is, obviously, very dangerous and an infringement of basic human rights and so, this curse is Unforgivable. Any questions on the Imperius curse?"

"How does it work, exactly?" asked a Gryffindor to the left. Harry had learned that her name was Michelle. "I mean, obviously it wouldn't make sense to give commands to the person out loud, would it?"

"That's a good question," Harry said. "No, the commands aren't given out loud. Since the person is magically bound to you, you can direct commands through your mind. Your wand will pick up on these thoughts and deliver them directly into the mind of the receiver. Anyone else?"

When no one else spoke up, Harry continued, pacing as he talked.

"The second is called the Cruciatus curse, or the 'torture' curse; the incantation for this one is _Crucio_. Using this curse allows the caster to inflict unimaginable pain upon the receiver, with no outwardly visible effects. In other words, there are no bodily wounds. No cuts or gashes appear on the skin, no blood bubbles out of the mouth, no bruises congeal on the joints. The pain to the receiver is so intense, however, that enough of it will drive them insane. Lord Voldemort used this curse frequently to attempt to torture information out of those who opposed him."

The air was getting thicker, Harry could feel it.

"Any questions on the Cruciatus curse?"

A Slytherin in the front raised his hand. Harry had learned his name the past week.

"Yes, Max?"

"Can you choose what sort of pain they feel?" he asked. "You know. Like what part of the body to effect."

"No," Harry answered. "There's no need to choose, as the curse effects the entire body at once. Its sole purpose is unbearable pain, and there is nothing more unbearable than pain throughout your whole being. Any others?"

Silence greeted him, so he continued.

"The final curse is the killing curse. There are of course many ways to kill someone using various forms of magic, but this is instantaneous and final. As soon as the incantation is cast, there is no going back. Someone who has been poisoned can be given an antidote; someone who is drowning in a sea of conjured water can be rescued. But someone who receives the killing curse is dead immediately, with no hope of survival. The incantation for it is _Avada Kedavra_."

Yes, the air was very heavy indeed.

"Questions?"

A Hufflepuff girl, Madeline, raised her hand. "Is there any way to block it?" she asked. "Like with a _Protego_ spell, or something like that?"

"The short answer is no," Harry replied. "No defensive spell will block any of the Unforgivable curses; none of those protective spells are strong enough. A physical object placed in the pathway of the curse can have some effect, as the curse will destroy the object instead of you, but this is, obviously, a very loose defense."

"Is there anyone alive today who's suffered all three curses?" asked another Hufflepuff boy. "I can't even imagine what that would be like."

"Of course not, you idiot," called a Slytherin from across the room. "He just said, no one survives the killing curse. Once you're hit with it, you're dead. Boom. That's it."

Harry watched this exchange carefully, his stomach feeling very heavy.

"Actually, Gregory," said Harry, addressing the Slytherin, "Luke poses a very good question. Madeline asked if there was a way to block the _Avada Kedavra_ spell, and I said the short answer was no, but it's a bit more complicated than that. The fact is, there is one person alive today who has had all three Unforgivable curses cast on them, and lived to tell the tale."

He had hoped it wouldn't need to come to this, but hell, he was teaching the damn lesson, wasn't he? If anyone else had been teaching it, they'd have been sure to point out that the only known person to have survived the killing curse was Harry Potter. Crouch had done that himself in Harry's fourth year. He'd just have to be careful how he approached it.

"It so happens," Harry said, "that the only person known to have survived the killing curse has also unfortunately been the receiver of the Imperius curse and the Cruciatus curse, at other times in his life. That person," and he paused, watching the room carefully for their reaction, "is me."

The room erupted in whispers and conversations immediately, and a few students called out questions.

"What was it like!"

"How did you survive!"

"Tell us more!"

Harry tried to calm the class down, to little avail, and so pulled out his wand.

"_Periculum!"_ he called, and red sparks erupted out of his wand toward the ceiling. The class quieted immediately.

"I'm sure everyone is eager to hear battle stories," said Harry, "but now is neither the time nor the place for me to expound on those."

"But how could you have survived it once?" asked Daniel.

"Actually, I survived two direct hits and fended off two more, if you want to get technical," said Harry. "The reasons behind my survival have far less to do with my own skill and much more to do with very complicated magic, however, and that's some pretty advanced and dark stuff to be discussing in a sixth year classroom."

There were the beginnings of protests to this statement, so Harry said, "That's final. All you need to know is that, essentially speaking, there is nothing you can do to survive the killing curse, aside from physically dodging the spell itself."

"What's it like? Being under the Cruciatus curse?" asked Madeline.

Harry paused before answering. "It's… it's unlike anything you could imagine," he said finally. "There really aren't even words for the kind of pain it puts you through."

The class quieted down, even the Slytherins staring at him with a newfound respect.

"Right, so, I think that's quite enough for today," Harry managed to say. "Class dismissed."

* * *

"I had a feeling something like that might happen," said Hermione, as she, Harry, and Neville were talking later in Neville's quarters about Harry's experience teaching the Unforgivables.

"I don't know how you did it," said Neville. "I can't imagine talking about something so personal. I mean, my parents are in St. Mungo's because of the Cruciatus… but you, Harry, as someone who's experienced all three curses personally… that's just… it must have been an awful class."

"It could have been worse," said Harry. "At least they all let it go when I explained that the reasons I survived were too complicated and advanced to talk about. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about horcruxes to a room full of sixteen year olds."

"What about you, Neville?" said Hermione. "How have your classes been going?"

"Oh, it's great!" he said. "I actually really like teaching, and being able to spend so much time in the greenhouses… it's unreal! How's Ron doing? You said he's in Germany, right?"

Hermione visibly stiffened, but Neville seemed not to notice. Harry did, though.

"He's doing well. He arrived in Germany yesterday. I'm sure he's had a very eventful first day at the German Ministry."

"It's really amazing isn't it?" said Neville. "All of us getting opportunities and experiences like this. Who would have thought?"

"Indeed," said Hermione, and she stood from her chair. "I think I'm going to go plan tomorrow's lessons."

She left the room abruptly, Neville looking after her, confused.

"Did I say something?" he asked, looking at Harry. Harry just shook his head.

"She's been a little off about Ron lately," he said. "She's… got this impression that he's trying to prove himself or something. Apparently he's been coming off as really insensitive and arrogant."

"That's odd," said Neville. "Why would he need to prove himself?"

Harry sighed. "Hermione has a theory that it's a combination of growing up the youngest brother and then having the misfortune of being my best friend."

"Misfortune?" said Neville incredulously. "Is she mad? Harry, coming from someone who is most certainly your friend, it's not a misfortune in the slightest. I'm honored to say that I know you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh don't start," he said. "I'm just a normal person. Seriously. It just so happens that Voldemort decided I needed to die, and I spent my life trying to make sure he didn't succeed."

"So what you're saying is, Hermione thinks that Ron is… jealous of you? Like he feels that you got all the glory while you were in school and he was just along for the ride?"

"I think that's her theory, yes," admitted Harry. "If that is what he's feeling, I'm not even sure he knows it. I mean, he's never acted badly toward me. Except for the last couple of weeks…"

"Why, what happened?"

"Ginny and I, we… well, we didn't really work out. Decided to go our separate ways. Ron is, understandably, a little upset with me for supposedly breaking his little sister's heart."

"Harry, I had no idea… I'm sorry," said Neville.

Harry made a face. In truth, he almost felt relieved to be out of the relationship with Ginny. It made things much simpler. Of course, that didn't mean that he didn't still feel incomplete and empty... "I'll be fine," he assured him. "Other fish in the sea, right?"

"Right," agreed Neville. "Everything happens for a reason, after all. D'you think maybe Ron might also be hostile since your breakup with Ginny because he's afraid you'll go for Hermione?"

"What? No, of course not," said Harry, a little too quickly. He kicked himself mentally for the knee-jerk reaction, but Neville either didn't notice his panic, or chose not to acknowledge it.

"I always wondered, watching you three at Hogwarts," said Neville, getting nostalgic, "if she'd end up with one of you. Honestly, though, Harry, I always thought it would have been you."

"What?"

"You know. I figured you and Hermione… not her and Ron," he said. "I don't know, you two just always seemed… closer. Hermione was always yelling at Ron for something, wasn't she?"

Harry laughed. "Yeah, she was always mad at him for one reason or another," he admitted. "But Hermione and I…" he trailed off. What could he say that wasn't a lie, anymore?

Neville gave him a conniving smile. "Come on, Harry. We're mates. I'm a guy, I know how we think… you can't tell me you never, not once, even thought about it?"

_Thought about it, done it, and then thought about it every day since_, thought Harry angrily. But, in truth, he could answer this question honestly. He put on his most convincingly innocent smile and said, "Yeah, sure, I've thought about it. Hard not to, isn't it?" Eager to get off the conversation topic, however, Harry turned the question back on Neville. "What about you? You always said you fancied Luna… what became of that?"

Neville shrugged. "She told me that she appreciated the sentiment but that she wanted to take some time to herself to explore the world looking for strange and unusual creatures," he said. "I get the feeling she doesn't want to settle down for a long time."

"That's a shame," said Harry. "But there's no rush, right? I mean, my parents married young, but they were madly in love starting from when they were in school together."

"Right," agreed Neville. "No rush."

They were quiet for a moment as they both stared at the fire.

"I think I'm going to go make sure Hermione is okay," said Harry. "She really seemed off."

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," said Neville. "I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast."

"Yeah, see you then." He stood and exited the room, stopping in front of Hermione's door, hesitating before knocking. The last thing he wanted to do was bother her, but his job for the last ten years had been being there for her to clean up after Ron's blundering mistakes.

Harry Potter's life responsibilities, defeating the darkest wizard of all time and comforting Hermione Jean Granger, he thought dryly, and then knocked. After a moment, the door opened and Hermione stood there, looking confused.

"Harry? What is it?"

"I just… you seemed upset. Leaving Neville's room. Didn't know if you maybe wanted to talk about it."

She sighed. "Oh."

"So… are you okay?"

She bit her lip. "I'll… I'm fine, Harry, I…"

"Hermione," he said quietly, stepping toward her. She dropped her hand from the door as he gently placed his finger under her chin, tilted her head slowly up so she was looking at him. "I know you better than that. You don't have to be afraid to talk to me."

As she stared up into his eyes, he could _feel_ the electricity between them. With his free hand, he took her hand in his and held it tightly.

"I'm here for you, Hermione," he assured her. "If you need to talk… then talk to me."

She was biting her lip again, and then, quite suddenly, she threw her arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder. Harry returned the embrace, putting one arm around her back and the other in her hair. He gently coaxed her to walk backwards, back into her room, and then kicked the door shut with this foot.

"It's okay, it's okay," he said, holding her tighter as her sobs began to slow. He had no idea Ron's idiocy was affecting her this badly.

"No, it's not," she said, pulling away and wiping at her tears. "I can't shake this… this angry feeling. I don't understand it, Harry. It's… It feels like it did after he left. When he left us during the horcrux hunt. I was so… so angry then. I was livid, I was so mad at him for deserting us that way…"

"I remember. You nearly killed him when he came back."

She giggled in spite of her tears, then shook her head. "That angry feeling was so strong. I felt like he'd betrayed us, you know? I almost didn't want to forgive him, Harry. I was ready to… to just give up on him."

"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought that once or twice, myself," Harry admitted. "But he came back."

"I know he did, and I'm glad he did, or else you'd be dead, but… I can't help but to compare that to this. He just… ran away from our life together. He deserted me, without any thought to how it might affect our relationship. I keep trying to be happy for him, to be grateful that he's been given this opportunity, but… I just can't do it."

"Do you think maybe you're just on edge because you haven't seen him since you came to Hogwarts?" Harry suggested.

"I don't know, maybe," she said, "but I was feeling the beginnings of this even before I left. From the moment he told me he was leaving."

"Has he said when he can leave Germany to come visit you?" Harry asked.

"Next weekend, he said," she replied. "He suggested meeting up for dinner in Hogsmeade and then staying here with me in the castle."

"Maybe talk to him about all of this then?" he said. "Maybe you'll feel differently once you see him again."

"I'll see how it goes," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I just feel like my whole life has been turned upside down in the last few months. In November everything was fine, and then suddenly so many things happened all at once…"

She trailed off, not needing to elaborate on what Harry already knew. Ron's crazy mission to Germany to capture Robertson's clients, dancing together at the Yuletide Ball, their amazing lovemaking experience on Christmas, him breaking things off with Ginny, and then Ron's new position in Germany… it was a lot to take in considering it all happened over just a couple of months.

"Thank you, Harry," she said, hugging him again.

"For?" he asked, returning the embrace.

"For always being here," she answered.

He just smiled. "Always."


	24. Peppermint Tea

**Chapter 24**

**_Peppermint Tea_**

* * *

March had slowly crept up on Scotland, and spring was lazily making its way to Hogwarts. It was early March and the temperatures were now consistently above the freezing point, though not by much.

On this chilly Saturday morning, it had been two weeks to the day since she and Harry had arrived at Hogwarts. Two weeks since she'd last seen Ron, two weeks since he'd held her, two weeks that she had been festering this lingering, poisonous anger.

Festering. That was a good word for it.

It was just sitting there, not going away, slowly and steadily getting more noxious, more toxic, and more harmful to her sanity. No matter what she did to prune at it, to make it go away, it persisted in its nasty, evil intrusion.

She had only heard from Ron once this past week since his letter suggesting he visit her this weekend, and that was only so he could confirm when they were meeting. Eleven, he'd said, at the Three Broomsticks.

If she was honest with herself, there was a part of her that was excited to see him, but the festering being inside her kept shutting it up.

Maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to talk to Ron about this that would get him to see what he was doing, how he was acting, that would make the horrible, festering anger go away…

"Doing okay?" came a voice from the doorway. She looked over to the door from where she was standing, staring out onto her balcony, to see Harry poking his head in the door, which she'd left cracked.

_No, I'm not okay_. "Yes, Harry, I'm wonderful," she said, smiling. "Why?"

"I just know how much this has been bothering you this week, with Ron and all, and I know you're about to go see him. Figured I'd make sure you were all right."

"I'm looking forward to talking to him," she said. _Not really._ "I think everything will be fine."

She watched as Harry stepped fully into the room and walked up to her.

"I know it's been hard for you over the last few months," he said, and hugged her. She hugged back, resting her head on his chest. "I just hope at least one thing can work out for you."

"Thank you, Harry," she said, and smiled up at him. "It's almost eleven, so I think I'm going to head down to Hogsmeade…"

"Let me know how it goes," said Harry, and he left her alone.

She sighed. It was now or never.

* * *

"Hermione!"

She jumped in surprise when she heard her name called not seconds after she stepped through the door of the Three Broomsticks. Turning to the source of the sound, she saw Ron standing from a table and smiling at her.

Immediately, every doubt seemed to melt away when she saw his smile. She beamed back at him and ran up to him, throwing herself into his arms and kissing him fiercely. Somehow the kiss he gave back seemed cold, but she brushed it off, thinking it was probably because they hadn't seen each other in two weeks.

"How are you?" he asked, sitting back down. She sat across from him.

"I'm doing really wonderfully," she gushed. "Teaching has been an amazing experience. What about you? How was your first week in Germany?"

The conversation flowed fluidly at first, but after they were served their food, it started to get choppy. Ron seemed uncomfortable, she noticed, and wasn't eating as fervently as he normally did. Wondering if maybe there was something wrong with the food that was making him feel ill, she decided to bring it up.

"You're awfully quiet… are you feeling all right?" she asked.

"No," he admitted, avoiding her gaze. "No, I feel a little sick."

"Well let me call Madame Rosmerta over here and she can take your food back to the kitchen," said Hermione firmly. "We'll get you set right, don't worry…"

"No, it's… it's not the food," said Ron. He looked very pale.

"Ron…" she said, her stomach suddenly tight also, though she couldn't explain why. "Ron, what is it?"

"Hermione… we need to talk."

Forget feeling tight. Her stomach flat out disappeared.

"I… okay," she managed to say. "What are we talking about?"

She watched as Ron took a deep breath in and then let it out. Finally, he looked up at her.

"I don't think this is right, Hermione."

"What? You don't think what is right?" she demanded.

"This… us. You're here for who knows how long. I'm in Germany for at least a year. I just… I don't think with those sorts of strains that this can really be what either of us wants right now."

Her stomach had already vacated her body.

Now, her heart joined it.

"Are you… is this… are you saying… we should break up?" she finally got out, her voice at least an octave higher than it normally was, as she fought the tightness in her throat.

He sighed again.

"I, well… yes, I guess," he admitted. "I mean, at least for now. I just think it's too hard on both of us. It took a lot of string pulling to even get them to let me come here today. I can't just leave whenever I like. It's not that simple."

She was hardly breathing. She might not even be breathing at all.

"And with you teaching, you obviously can't leave the castle whenever you want to come over to Germany, that won't work either, not to mention you wouldn't be allowed on the ambassador base without a special permit," he went on.

She was hardly listening.

He wanted to break up.

He was leaving her.

They weren't going to get married.

The festering monster inside her didn't even have the energy to lift its head and sniff the air.

"Hermione?" asked Ron hesitantly. "Are… are you okay?"

"Is there someone else?" she blurted out. "Is that why you're doing this? You've found some lovely German girl to make you happy?"

He looked very taken aback by this. Quite frankly, she wasn't even sure where that accusation had come from.

"What! No, no, Hermione this is nothing like that, that's not it at all…" he insisted.

She was numb. Her stomach and heart didn't even exist anymore. Her brain was frozen.

"Do you… do you at least see where I'm coming from?" he asked cautiously.

Slowly, she processed this sentence. Did she see, did she understand, why he was doing this? Did his explanation make any sense at all?

Weeks at a time without seeing each other. Tension between them while they were apart. Her inability to get over this festering anger at how he'd left.

Somehow, none of that seemed to explain away the overbearing, overwhelming, all-encompassing feeling of emptiness that now filled every corner of her being.

"I… I…" she began, but she just couldn't put words together. She took a deep breath and tried desperately to focus all of her energy towards un-freezing her brain and thinking about what he had said as logically as possible.

She had spent the last two weeks being inconsolably angry with him, for precisely the reason he had just stated, more or less.

Being apart was not easy for them.

It hadn't been easy when he'd chosen Lavender over her and they didn't speak for weeks.

And then she had kissed Harry the day Lavender had thrown herself onto Ron after that Quidditch match.

It hadn't been easy when he'd left during the horcrux hunt.

And then she'd lost her virginity to Harry while he was gone.

It hadn't been easy when he was in Germany for over a month.

And then she'd slept with Harry while he was there.

It hadn't been easy the two weeks they'd been apart this time around.

To her credit, she hadn't wavered in her fidelity. This time. That marginally good mark of fidelity on her record aside, what evidence did she have that being apart like this was ever going to get better for them? Why should they both stay in a relationship where they were both lonely and miserable?

It was purely because her heart was still absent and therefore unable to contribute to this mental discussion that she was able to answer him with any kind of certainty at all.

"Yes," she said finally. "Yes, I see where you're coming from."

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said softly. "I really am. But I just couldn't see us keeping on like this."

Ten years. Ten long, difficult, amazing, memory-filled years. Gone. Just like that.

"You know, maybe… maybe this was just the wrong timing for us," Ron was saying. "Maybe in a few years…" he trailed off.

"Yeah," she agreed weakly. "Maybe."

She stared down at the table. He was looking at her, she knew he was, but she couldn't bring herself to look up. She bit her lip as her engagement ring flashed on her left hand. She delicately ran the thumb of her right hand over the diamond, then carefully slid it off her finger and, finally, looked up at him.

"Here," she said. "You take it. I wouldn't know what to do with it."

When she met his eyes, she could see the hurt, the sadness, that was in them. Of course, she wasn't sure what she expected to see. But at least she could see he wasn't particularly happy about having to do this. He hesitated, then held out his hand so she could drop the ring into it.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

She took a deep breath in. "I'm sorry, too. That it couldn't work."

They were silent for a moment.

"I should be going," she said, and went for her bag to dig out a few coins to pay for her half of lunch.

"No, Hermione, don't worry, I've got it," said Ron, placing a few galleons on the table. "Do you… do you want me to walk you out?"

What a ridiculous thing to ask.

"No, I'm fine," she said. "Goodbye, Ron."

* * *

Harry was grading essays that his students had turned in earlier that week on the Patronus charm (he'd asked them to describe the theory and then expound upon their personal experience with it and analyze why or why not they had been able to achieve a fully powered Patronus) when he heard a loud _bang_. He looked up from the parchment he was working on and stared in the general direction of Hermione's room, waiting to possibly hear something else. Of course he heard nothing, as there were silencing charms on the walls between the rooms, but he was fairly certain that noise had been the sound of Hermione slamming her door shut. He stared at his own closed door for a moment, considering his options.

No matter what she'd said this morning, he knew she'd been nervous to go and see Ron. It was written all over her face. So, on the one hand, perhaps the meeting had gone poorly, and she was upset.

On the other hand, he thought, perhaps it had gone remarkably well, and the door slammed because they had been eager to… get busy.

Or, maybe it had gone poorly, and she'd brought Ron back into the castle to argue with him…

Just when he'd resolved to let it go and wait a few hours to see what happened, there was a knock on his door. Not sure exactly what to expect, he got up and opened it.

He was mildly surprised to see Neville standing there.

"Oh, hello Neville," said Harry. "What's up?"

"Er…" he started. "Well, I had just left my room to head down to the greenhouses to meet a few students for some extra help with Herbology, and, well… Hermione, she… she came round the corner at a jog, almost a run, and disappeared into her room. I don't think she even saw me there. She… she seemed like she was crying," he finished.

Harry's heart dropped.

"She was alone?" he asked.

"Yeah, definitely alone," Neville affirmed. "I didn't know if maybe you knew what was wrong, or something, but I know how close you two are and she really seems upset, so I figured I'd let you know."

Harry heaved a big, heavy sigh.

"Thanks for letting me know, Neville… She was supposed to be having lunch with Ron. I'm assuming this means it didn't go well."

"Oh," said Neville, and his face fell further. "That's definitely not good, then. You really ought to check on her. I've got to go meet these third years, but let me know later if she's all right, okay?"

Harry agreed and Neville turned to head for the greenhouses. Wondering what on earth Ron could have said this time to upset Hermione so much, he walked to her door and knocked.

"What do you want?" came the muffled reply. Yikes.

"Hermione, it's me," said Harry through the door, a little affronted. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, it's you," he heard her say. At least she sounded relieved and not irritated to know it was he who had knocked. A few moments later, the door opened and Harry's eyes immediately flooded with concern when he saw her. She had tracks of tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes were red and swollen, and her hair was falling out of the bun it had been so carefully placed in when she'd left earlier.

"Hermione… what in the world… what happened?" he asked, stepping into the room. She closed the door behind him. For the moment, she just couldn't find words to say. She stood there, letting a few more tears roll down her cheeks, not even caring to wipe them away anymore, and then slowly sunk down onto the bed. She stared down at her hands, wringing them together, trying not to stare at her uncomfortably vacant left ring finger.

Her heart, so blissfully absent at the Three Broomsticks, had returned not even ten steps from the door of the pub. The realization that she was alone, that Ron had left her, that she was no longer engaged, had washed over her like an unpleasantly cold waterfall. Afraid to break down in a public place, she'd immediately apparated to the Hogwarts gates and then ran through the castle to her room, avoiding the gaze of anyone she passed. She had fought the tears for as long as she could but they'd started on the stairs up to the fifth floor. Sir Benedict had tried to ask if she was feeling okay as she stuttered out the password, but she had ignored him and then ended up running right by Neville – she was absolutely sure he had seen her crying – before finally disappearing into her room.

Quite suddenly, her stomach also decided to reappear within her body.

"I'm sorry," she managed to mumble out, before stumbling into the bathroom and promptly vomiting up everything she'd just eaten for lunch.

Harry had no words. It had been a very long time since he had seen Hermione this upset. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd ever seen her this upset at all. The only time that might have come close was how upset she'd been in the few days after Ron left during the horcrux hunt. She hadn't closed the bathroom door, so he heard her throwing up, and he wrinkled his nose. Wasn't random vomiting a symptom of pregnancy? Harry was sure he'd heard that mentioned before.

Oh God, what if Hermione was pregnant? That would be quite enough to upset her so much…

Another realization smacked Harry hard in the face, almost on top of that previous thought. What if she was pregnant and _it was his!_

Suddenly Harry felt sick, too, but he tried to reason with himself. If it were his, surely Hermione would have figured that out and told him before now. It had been over two months since Christmas, didn't women usually realize they were pregnant before then?

He almost didn't notice when she appeared back in the room, wiping at her eyes.

"I'm sorry, that was rude," she said, sitting down on the bed again.

"What? No, you're fine, no worries," he mumbled. "Hermione… what…" he began, but she cut him off.

"Ron broke up with me."

Harry blinked and stared at her, certain he couldn't have heard her correctly, but he could at least be sure that she had _not_ said she was pregnant.

"I'm sorry, he… what?"

"Ron. Today. At lunch. He told me we weren't going to work out."

Harry couldn't form words.

"I gave him back the… the ring," she continued, and her voice faltered at the end as she began to cry again. "Oh, Harry, what do I do!" she cried, and buried her head in a pillow.

Harry blinked again and shook his head a little. This was entirely unexpected… He cautiously walked over to the bed and sat on the edge next to where Hermione had laid down. She was mostly on her side, her hands clutching the pillow that she was head-first in. Violent sobs were wracking her body, and she was visibly shaking.

Harry wasn't sure what to say, so he just said her name.

"Hermione…" he whispered, and hesitantly put a hand on her back. She didn't protest, so he rubbed her upper back, a little awkwardly, trying to ease the shaking. "Hermione," he said again, "take some deep breaths. Try and relax."

She lifted her head off the pillow slightly and he heard her take a deep, shuddering breath in, and then slowly let it out. She choked out another sob after that, and then tried to take another deep breath.

Harry's heart broke as he looked down at her.

"Kreacher," he said sharply.

The house elf appeared in the room.

"Yes, Master Potter?" he said, bowing.

"Can you bring me a cup of tea? Whatever the most soothing is for an upset stomach," he asked. "As quickly as possible."

"As you wish," said Kreacher, and he disappeared again.

Harry scooted a little closer to Hermione so he could wrap more of his arm around her to keep rubbing her back. To his surprise, she moved her head from the pillow to his lap, although she continued to cry. Not quite as vehemently though, Harry noticed.

"I have Kreacher bringing you some tea," said Harry awkwardly. "You seem like you need it."

"Thank you," she managed to say.

"Keep taking deep breaths," he reminded her. She obeyed and took a few more shuddering breaths before Kreacher reappeared, bearing a steaming teacup on a saucer.

"Peppermint tea, sir," said Kreacher, and Harry held out his hand for it. Kreacher passed it on and the elf cast a somewhat worried glance at Hermione.

"Thank you Kreacher, that'll be all," said Harry, not wanting the elf to linger while Hermione was in such a state. Kreacher gave a slight bow of his head and then disappeared.

"Here, Hermione," said Harry, setting the saucer down on the nightstand. "Come on, try and sit up."

He placed a hand on her shoulder and the other on her back and slowly guided her to a sitting position. Carefully, he reached a hand up and wiped away the streaks going down her cheeks.

"Drink this. It'll help," he said, offering her the teacup. "It's peppermint."

She took the cup from him and slowly took a sip. Then another. And another.

"This is perfect," she said quietly. "Thank you."

"Anytime," he replied habitually. "Hermione, listen, I know you probably don't want to talk about this right now…"

She shook her head, agreeing with him.

"But," he continued, "I want you to know that whenever you are ready to talk, I'm here."

"I know," she said. "You're always here."

"And that's not changing."

"Will you stay with me for a while?" she asked, looking over at him.

The forty or so essays waiting on his desk in the next room over said no, but Harry couldn't care less at the moment.

"Of course," he answered, wrapping an arm around her. "Anything you need."

"Thank you," she said. She took another sip of tea and then laid her head on his shoulder.

He had forty essays to grade and he hadn't had lunch yet, but at the moment, he was perfectly content to let her lean on him and hold her as her tears slowed.

He'd spent the last ten years being there for Hermione when she needed him, just as she had done for him. He was sure as hell not stopping now.


	25. Love Makes Us Blind

**AN**: Just a quick little note to announce my shock and surprise at the momentum this story is gaining! Hundreds of new people have discovered this since I've started updating regularly again - much love to you new readers! My most popular story is still Faith (about 12,000 people have read it all the way through) but this one is catching up!

* * *

**Chapter 25**

_Love Makes Us Blind_

* * *

She was a machine.

There was absolutely nothing in the world that was a better distraction and mind-focuser for Hermione Granger than stress. Her third week of teaching she had laid her students with essay after essay, along with hours of dedicated theory practice in classes. She'd handed out more detentions than she could count because she was extremely on edge and thus had a very low tolerance for any sort of rule breaking. A reputation was quickly gaining momentum for her as the strictest teacher in the school, and who would've thought that from a temporary substitute?

Harry had told her once or twice this week to slow down and relax, but how could she? Her world had been devastated exactly one week ago.

Actually, no, she corrected herself. The devastation had started months ago. That awful December day when she'd watched Ron disappear to Germany before her very eyes in Simon's office. That's when it had all began.

Or had it started even sooner than that? Had it started the day he'd decided to leave during the horcrux hunt, the day when he'd given up on Harry, the day he'd given up on her…

No, she thought again, the day Ron had given up on her was the day Lavender had thrown herself into his arms, and he'd willingly kissed her back…

So, really, Ron had given up on her before they'd even gotten started, hadn't he?

She tried to tell herself that this was a very extreme way of looking at it and that it really wasn't that simple, but, in fact, it was that simple, after all. If she had been looking at the past five to six years or so with any kind of clarity, then she would have seen the warnings, seen the signs, that should have pointed her in the direction of knowing that Ron would, one day, leave her.

Wasn't he always the one to give up first? Always the one to back down, back out, back up? When studying got hard, he was always the first to take a break. When the time came to ask for dates for the Yule ball, Ron chickened out and Harry ended up getting dates for the both of them. When he made the Quidditch team (which he'd worked so hard to do), the morning of his first match he announced he wanted to quit simply because he was nervous. During the horcrux hunt, he had always been the one that was first to complain, and he had ended up leaving them alone because he was so fed up with the dead ends.

In December, he was tired of being cooped up in an office doing paperwork, so he eagerly left that behind for an exciting "real" mission to Germany… And his restlessness at being returned to the same desk job led to his eager acceptance of a new and interesting job in a far away place, without regard to anything else…

And so, why should she be at all surprised that when being in a committed relationship became too much of a strain, too much of an inconvenience… that he would leave that, too?

Suddenly, she looked down and realized she had been hovering over a sixth year's essay with her quill, and red ink blots were appearing on the paper from where the quill had been dripping. Cursing, she grabbed her wand and lightly tapped the red splotches, clearing them from the paper without removing the student's writing. She heaved a deep sigh and glanced at the clock on her desk. It was past ten in the evening. Clearly she'd had enough grading for the day. It was Saturday, so she'd been at it all day. She hadn't even been down to the Great Hall for meals; she'd called for Winky to bring her a little something every so often, but she'd had no substantial food.

Deciding that maybe a brisk walk might clear her head, she got up and headed in the general directions of the kitchens. Obviously she could have called for something, but she felt she needed the walk more than the food, anyway.

Round about the second floor, she turned a corner and nearly ran smack into Harry.

"Harry!" she said, clutching her chest and trying to catch her breath from her shock. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Each Head of House takes a weekend to walk the corridors after curfew to check for students out of bed," explained Harry. "This weekend, as it happens, is the turn for Head of Gryffindor House." He paused, then held up the parchment in his hand. "Of course, I have the Marauder's Map, so I can just glance at it and see if anyone's about. Since there isn't, I'm taking the opportunity to wander and get some exercise," he smiled. "As such, I saw you coming… what brings you out of your nest of essays?"

She knew he was kidding with her, but it did bring into uncomfortable light that she had basically ignored him – and everyone else – all week long.

"I was hungry and fancied a walk," she mumbled. "I was headed for the kitchens."

"Care for company?" he returned. "Like I said, no one's breaking the rules at the moment, so I've nothing keeping me from coming with you."

"Sure," she said, and they began the leisurely journey to the kitchens below the Great Hall.

"You know," began Harry, "sometimes I still can't get over that I'm back here in the castle after spending so long away from it. Especially since we never came back for seventh year, it just feels like I was so far removed from Hogwarts."

"Me too," she agreed.

"I mean, it's like my whole life here was just leading up to that last year of searching for horcruxes and then finally killing Voldemort," Harry went on. "Like there was just this feeling of finality once I realized at the end of sixth that I wouldn't be back. So now, being back here, walking these corridors, eating in the Great Hall, being in the classroom – albeit it's only one classroom, and I'm teaching rather than learning – it just, it gives a feeling of completeness. You know?"

"Mmhmm."

"Are you okay, Hermione?" he asked her. "You're normally far more conversational."

She considered giving the passive "Yes, I'm fine" answer that she'd been giving all week, because she just didn't have the energy to go into all the reasons that she was anything but fine. It only took a moment of considering it to know it was stupid to even hope that Harry would believe her or accept that answer. They were alone. She wasn't trying to get back to grading papers, he wasn't on his way to teach, there was no reason for her to avoid talking now.

"No, I'm really not," she admitted finally. "I've been so stressed with grading papers that I haven't had the chance to really think about what happened last Saturday until about a half hour ago."

She looked over at Harry and saw he was regarding her with concern.

"Hermione, I told you last weekend: whenever you're ready to talk, I'm here."

"I know."

They walked in silence for a few moments while she considered what she wanted to say.

"I just really had the opportunity to dissect what happened, and to understand why he did what he did," she started, and then she launched into all the revelations she'd come up with in her room. How Ron had always had a dissatisfied attitude, how he'd always backed out of things, how he was so non-committal, and how all of that made it exceedingly obvious that this was going to happen.

"I think what I'm upset about most, now," she continued, "is that I was too blind to see this coming at all."

"Love makes us blind to a lot of things," Harry whispered.

The tightness in her throat had crept up on her without her noticing and she tried to swallow down a sob and failed. One tear, then two, spilled down her cheeks, and as she stopped walking to wipe them away, Harry stopped too and put his arms around her in a hug.

"It's okay, Hermione," he said. "It'll be okay." He pulled her to the side of the corridor and leaned against the wall, letting her rest her head on his chest. She brought her hands up and laid them on his chest, too, trying to remember to breathe deeply and calm the tears.

"I'm sorry," she managed to say. "I hate crying."

"I don't like seeing you cry," he admitted, "but you need it. It's okay to let it out."

She sniffled a few more times before pushing herself back onto her own weight and staring up at Harry.

"Thank you," she said, wiping at her eyes.

"Don't worry, Hermione," he said, and gently pushed her hand downward, replacing it with his own as he wiped at her tears. "I know it's hard. Believe me, I know. But it will get better."

"I know, I know…" she said. She was still looking up at him. He looked back, and as he cupped her face in his hand, he felt that same pull, that same electricity in his stomach. It was almost tangible, as if he could reach into the air and grab hold of it. Several years previously his eyes had been opened to how beautiful Hermione really was, the night of their stolen kiss in the Astronomy tower… that had been affirmed that night in the tent when they'd first made love… and then he'd done his best to forget about it. A few months ago, it had hit him all over again, and try as he might, he hadn't been able to forget this time. And right then, staring into those deep brown eyes, seeing her parted lips, her shallow breaths…the desire to lean down and kiss her was almost impossible to resist.

_She's single now,_ cooed a voice in his head. _And so are you. What's the harm? Just do it!_

_Just because she's single doesn't mean her heart is available,_ came a softer voice from the back of his brain. _You respect her, don't you?_

It was this last sentiment that held his resolve. He couldn't bring himself to disrespect her that way. It had been he who had initiated all of their stolen, illegal touches while Ron was in Germany over Christmas. He wasn't going to let that happen again.

"Let's get you some food, okay?" he said, and he ran his hand from her cheek through her hair and then dropped it to his side.

* * *

Sunday morning came and Hermione rolled over, trying to hide herself from the blinding light streaming in through the windows. She had slept horribly – even worse than the shoddy sleep she'd been getting the rest of the week – and she wasn't sure whether to blame it on eating just before going to bed, the increased stress from breaking down in tears, or the massive amount of tension between her and Harry when he'd wiped at her cheeks the night before.

It wasn't a bad tension, exactly… but it was definitely there. Full, pronounced, and heady. It was the first time she'd acknowledged it since the talk they'd had so long ago in the office when they'd agreed to stop whatever it was they had been doing. Her mind's eye had flashed back to that moment after Christmas shopping back in December, when she'd been so flustered and nervous and then, just like that, he'd kissed her, and she'd kissed him back. It was like it was the same moment all over again the previous night on the way to the kitchens – except this time, he hadn't leaned down and met her lips.

What she was really having trouble wrapping her mind around was how disappointed she'd felt when he'd merely stroked her hair and then continued their walk to the kitchen. Clearly she was in a serious state of sexual need, if she was having crazy desires for Harry's kisses while she was still heartbroken over Ron. That was about the only halfway decent explanation she could come up with that made any sort of sense.

Obviously, there was no way she could act on that. It wasn't fair to her and it wasn't fair to Harry. She loved him dearly, and she knew he loved her, but it had always been a very close, strictly platonic love.

_Well, not _strictly _platonic,_ she reminded herself, _but only a few slips in ten years might as well be entirely platonic._

Resigning herself to beginning the day despite her lack of sleep, she slid out of bed and disappeared into her bathroom to try and get herself looking more awake before she headed down for breakfast in the Great Hall.

* * *

Harry had paused on his way to the Head Table in the Great Hall when Daniel, the ever-questioning Ravenclaw, had stopped him to ask about the grade Harry had given him on his Patronus essay. Harry had been a little surprised at this, as he'd given him an E on the essay – his theory content had been spectacular, but he had wanted a little more exposition from him on why he couldn't manage a full-bodied Patronus – but apparently Daniel felt that this grade was unfair.

"I just don't know why I couldn't achieve a full Patronus!" Daniel was saying. "I can't figure it out, I don't know what else I could have written," he insisted. He wasn't angry, exactly, Harry realized. He just clearly wasn't used to receiving anything besides O's on his assignments. A lot like someone else Harry knew…

"Have you considered altering the memory you chose?" Harry asked. "When I was first learning the Patronus charm, I wasn't really old enough to have a lot of really powerful happy memories yet, so at first I struggled with coming up with one that was good enough."

"How old were you?" asked Daniel. Of course.

"Thirteen," Harry answered, waving off the question as unimportant as Daniel's eyes widened. "If you'd like, you can see me in my office sometime to work on the charm independently, if it's important to you to perfect it…" he trailed off as he saw Hermione enter the Great Hall.

Speaking of people who demanded O's on every assignment…

"If you'll excuse me, Daniel, I've got someone I need to see," said Harry, and patted him on the shoulder before meeting Hermione as she walked to the Head Table.

"I see you've decided to actually grace the Great Hall with your presence today?" said Harry, smirking at her. She laughed, even though he could tell she'd been trying not to.

"After an awful night's sleep, I've decided that skipping meals and subsisting on biscuits and tea is probably not the healthiest way to go about a day's sustenance."

"I'm inclined to agree," said Harry, as they sat down next to each other at the Head Table. "You'll be pleased to know I've got a student who is just as eager for perfection as you were in school."

"I've a feeling I know who you mean," said Hermione. "There's a Ravenclaw boy in all my classes who is always the last to leave because he's determined to get every charm right."

"Daniel Goldstein?" asked Harry.

"That's the one," she answered. "Honestly, I think he's worse than I ever was, I was never _that_ obsessed with getting things right…" she trailed off as she noticed Harry raising his eyebrows at her.

"Really, Hermione? You really think so?" he prodded, but he smiled at her.

"Okay, well, just because I liked to make sure I was doing things correctly doesn't…"

"Sorry, Hermione, but he really is just like you," teased Harry. "I'd say he's proof that you should have ended up in Ravenclaw, but you developed a taste for breaking the rules that, in my opinion, confirmed your placement in Gryffindor."

"I blame that taste for rule breaking entirely on you, Harry Potter," she returned. "It's all your fault."

He just smiled back at her as he reached for a muffin. She was talking, she was laughing, she was joking. That was progress if he'd ever seen it. Perhaps yesterday was the last day she would be shut up in her room and avoiding all unnecessary human contact. Even if she went back up there today and didn't come out again until tomorrow morning, she had at least come down for breakfast today. That was a start.

It was amazing really, how definitively they had always been there to care for each other. No matter what happened, it seemed she had always been right there for him, and he for her. When he'd been scared out of his mind before facing the dragons in the Triwizard Tournament, she'd come and found him just to assure him he'd be fine. When Ron had gone for Lavender, he'd been the one to find Hermione and comfort her. (In more ways than he'd expected to…) At every frustrating turn of the horcrux hunt, Hermione was there, brainstorming, coming up with solutions, finding their way to the next location. Even putting flowers on his parents' grave when he'd found it. When they were alone and desperate, after Ron left them during the hunt, they had turned to each other for comfort…

When she was upset and lonely when Ron was in Germany, he had done everything he could to keep her happy and cheer her up (once again, in more ways than he'd expected to). When he was withdrawing from everyone around him while considering everything Ginny had told him, it had been Hermione who had come to find him, talk to him, reason with him – and it had been Hermione who had come to spend time with him on Valentine's Day, when she assumed he'd be depressed and lonely. And now, it was Harry who was watching her carefully, taking care of her, and wiping away her tears after Ron had broken her heart.

But, after all, that's what best friends were for, wasn't it? He asked himself. He could almost accept this, if it weren't for the nagging voice in the back of his head reminding him that for ten years, Ron had also been considered a best friend to both he and to Hermione… yet Ron was hardly ever the one to check in, to offer help, to comfort – either he or Hermione.

Now, suddenly, he could see what Neville had meant when he'd observed that Harry and Hermione were always "closer" – the level of loyalty they held to each other was unlike anything Harry had ever experienced, and he'd bet Hermione could say the same. He'd like to think that's the kind of loyalty his parents had had – to each other, to him as a baby…

"Are you okay, Harry?" asked Hermione, buttering a piece of toast. "You got quiet all of a sudden."

"What? Oh, no, I'm fine. Just glad to have you out of your room for a change," he assured her.

"It feels good," she admitted. "I don't know what I was thinking, trying to close myself off from everything and push my emotions away."

"You were retreating back to the fanciful place where you know everything and have all the answers," suggested Harry. "If you ask me, you're probably happier to be back at Hogwarts than I am – a place where there's a definitive answer to everything, and you know them all." He smiled.

She poked him in the shoulder. "Hey, I'm not _that_ bad…"

"What were we just talking about?" interrupted Harry. "Oh, right, how _very much like_ Daniel Goldstein you are…"

"Shut up," she said, but she was barely concealing a smile.

Was it odd, he wondered, that it gave him a ridiculous sense of accomplishment and happiness to know he could make her smile?

"Harry," came a voice behind him, and he was surprised to turn and see McGonagall standing by him. It was still weird for him to hear her call him "Harry" after so many years of her using his surname when he was a student. When he met her eyes, she continued talking without even waiting for him to answer.

"My office. We need to talk. Now."

He blinked a few times before saying, "Of course," and standing. He gave Hermione a worried glance before following McGonagall out of the Great Hall and to her office.

"Am I in trouble?" he couldn't help but to ask. Despite her stern expression, McGonagall turned to him and cracked a half smile.

"No," she assured him. "Though your days here as a student were peppered with gregarious amounts of rule-breaking, you have performed admirably as a teacher."

He beamed with pride – he couldn't help it – as they ascended the stairs to her office.

"Well, if I'm not in trouble," he said once they were inside, "then what's this about?"

She sighed deeply. Once they had entered her office she'd stepped behind her desk and was now leaning on it, her hands pressing into the wood surface and her vision cast downward. Finally, she looked up.

"I have just received a message from St. Mungo's," she started slowly. Harry interrupted without thinking.

"Have they found a cure? Is Maelyss coming back?" He could think of no other reason she would have needed to speak to him alone after hearing from St. Mungo's.

Another deep sigh, and then she sat down, shaking her head.

"As of this morning," she went on, still in that slow, heavy tone, "the Healers of St. Mungo's have informed me that Hadrian Maelyss has succumbed to the virus."

When Harry said nothing, she continued.

"Early this morning, Professor Maelyss passed away at St. Mungo's."

Harry couldn't help it, he gasped in surprise. He had never imagined anyone actually would have died from the bug.

"Professor," (he couldn't help calling her that, he just couldn't) "I… that's just… that's horrible," he stuttered out. To his surprise, she sniffled a little, and conjured a handkerchief. Of course, he reminded himself, Maelyss had been here for almost four years, ever since the war had finished. The teachers all developed a sense of camaraderie, he'd been able to discern that in only the few weeks he'd been here as a professor. Naturally the death of a fellow member of staff would upset any teacher, headmistress or not.

"It is quite devastating," she agreed, dabbing at her eyes, and then composed herself again. "However, that is why I've called you in to talk," she said. "From what I hear, you have gained quite a wonderful reputation among the students. You appear to be teaching them extraordinarily well, and clearly have a knack for teaching – something I saw in you while you were still here as a student, and I must confess I was a little disappointed when you told me at our conference for your future career choice that you planned to be an Auror."

Harry swallowed. "Well," he said nervously, "being an Auror turned out to be not as exciting as I'd thought, compared to defeating Voldemort himself." This wasn't entirely a lie, as for the most part his stints in the Auror office had involved a lot of paperwork and research and really nothing that compared to his experience growing up trying to defeat the darkest wizard of all time.

She gave him a half smile. "That being said, with Maelyss… being gone," she hesitated, "I would like to formally offer you the permanent position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher, and Head of Gryffindor House."

Harry's eyes widened and he found it difficult to form any sort of response for a moment.

Permanent?

Permanent teacher?

Permanent Head of House?

Permanent resident of Hogwarts castle, the place he'd always called home?

"Of course I will understand if you feel this is too much for you," McGonagall began, but Harry interrupted.

"I would love nothing more than to accept," he started, "but I need some time to think on it, to make sure it's really the best idea. At the very least, I'd like to talk it over with Hermione, she's always been able to help me see things more clearly."

"Naturally," she replied. "Take as long as you need, as long as you give me enough time to start searching for a replacement, should you decline."

"Of course," he assured her. "Thank you, truly, it's an honor that you would ask."

She gave a full smile at that. "You may go, if you wish."

He nodded at her, thanked her again, and then disappeared down the stairs. He absolutely had to find Hermione, as quickly as possible.


	26. Dueling

**Chapter 26**

_Dueling_

* * *

"Maelyss is _dead_?" exclaimed Hermione.

He'd run into her in the corridor when she was on her way back to the teacher's quarters. Without wasting any time, he told her had to talk to her and that it was extremely important, so they'd gone right to his room.

"Yep. Dead. He died this morning in St. Mungo's. McGonagall said the Healers told her he 'succumbed to the virus.'"

Hermione's mouth was agape. She sat, transfixed, on his bed, as Harry paced back and forth in front of her.

"But… Harry… that means… I mean, you…"

"That's why she called me up to her office," Harry cut in, finishing Hermione's incomplete sentence. "She's offered me the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, and Head of Gryffindor House. Permanently."

"When are you going to tell your students?" she demanded.

"I… wait, what?"

"Well, clearly you accepted," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Er, no, actually, I didn't…"

She gasped. "You said _no!_"

"Well, no, I didn't decline it either," he hurriedly explained. "I just… I told her I needed some time to think. That I wanted to… to think about it and, well… talk it over. With you."

She blinked at him. "Talk it over with me? Harry, why? This is perfect for you! I mean, it's rather awful for Maelyss and his family if he had any, of course, but… Harry, I've seen you the last three weeks, you're so amazing at teaching. You really are. It's like this is your calling. I can't imagine why you wouldn't have accepted straight away."

He stopped pacing to look at her. "I wanted to talk it over with you because you've always been the person who reasons with me before I undertake anything, Hermione. You're my clarity, my sanity. You're the one who keeps me from doing anything outrageously stupid."

She stared at him for a moment, then said, "Okay, sure, I can see where you're coming from. But I promise you, accepting this position is the farthest thing from 'outrageously stupid' that you could do."

"You really think so?"

"I know so," she assured him. "Harry, they love you. Everyone here, students and teachers alike, adore you. And you… Harry, it's so obvious. You're so happy. I haven't seen you so happy and so excited in so long…"

"But what about you?" he asked. "Flitwick is part goblin, I don't think he's going to let this virus kill him. He'll get better eventually and then come back and you'll have to go back to being an Auror in London and I'll be here in Scotland."

"Harry, you can't let that make your decision for you. I may be your best friend, but I'm sure I can survive if we can't see each other quite as often," she said.

Harry's stomach dropped when he realized that, though she said she could certainly survive such long stretches apart, he didn't think that he could manage it… He couldn't imagine going weeks at a time without seeing her, hearing her laugh, hugging her…

"Harry?"

"You're right," he said, pulling himself out of his introspection. "I really do love it here. I never thought of myself as a teacher, but this has shown me that it's what I'm really good at. I'll tell McGonagall tomorrow that I'll accept the offer."

Hermione beamed at him.

"I'm so happy for you, Harry," she said. "I'm so proud of you." She stood up and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. "You're going to be so great. Harry Potter, Hogwarts professor…"

He returned the hug. "Thanks, Hermione. I sure hope you'll be sticking around for a least a little while longer."

"As far as I know there haven't been any major breakthroughs on the cure yet," she said, pulling away and looking at him, "so I think I'll be here a while more."

"Good."

There it was again. That pull, that electricity. Any time she was close to him and she looked him in the eyes, he felt it. Damn it.

"Speaking of you sticking around for a while. Don't you have essays to grade?" he asked cheekily.

"Ah, yes, right," she said, disentangling herself from his arms. "Better get on that."

As soon as the door closed behind her, he slunk down onto the bed and flopped on his back, staring at the gilded red canopy above him. He had finally gotten his dreams under control, he hadn't been having the insane desires for Hermione that had spread through his entire December and January, and he'd thought he'd put it all behind him, as she had put it all behind her. He had even considered that his wild desires for Hermione had stemmed out of his failing relationship with Ginny somehow, since shortly after he broke things off with Ginny, his odd strong desires had evened out and not been prevalent at all anymore. The worst that had happened was when he'd unexpectedly imagined Hermione having sex with him when he'd conjured that Patronus in his class demonstration.

Yet now, even without the presence of those heady, steamy dreams, he was finding himself struggling to control himself around Hermione. And it wasn't even that he wanted to rip her clothes off and fuck her, he just wanted to kiss her. It was that impossible desire to just lean down and close the gap between them, to feel his lips on hers… But _why_!

Maybe he should just do it and get it out of the way. Depending on how she responded to it, he could then assure himself he was being an idiot and to get rid of the insane desire once and for all. He considered this for a moment. More than likely, she would pull away, smack him, and say something like "Harry James Potter, how _dare_ you!"

He could almost hear her voice shrieking it at him as that little voice in his head sneaked in its own opinion.

What if she didn't pull away? What if she didn't stop him? What if she kissed him back, just like she had in the Astronomy Tower, in the tent, in her flat…

Then what?

* * *

McGonagall's announcement Monday morning in the Great Hall about Maelyss's death had been somber, but when she'd said that Harry would be his permanent replacement, there had been a good amount of applause and cheering considering they'd just heard the previous teacher was dead. Though Mondays were his fullest day in terms of students taught, he really was beginning to look forward to his Monday morning sixth year students. They all seemed to admire him in a slightly different light than the other students, perhaps because he found most of his real life experiences related to the sixth year curriculum and so he always sounded the most impressive to them.

"I think everyone is really going to like this week's theory practice," said Harry, once all the sixth years were seated. "Up to this point in your magical learning, you should have a great deal of defensive and offensive charms up your sleeve. Today, we are going to put that large bank of knowledge to the test." He stopped talking and picked up a bowl that was sitting on his desk. "In this bowl resides each one of your names. I'll be picking two names at a time, because today, we're going to practice dueling."

The room immediately erupted in conversation.

"This is the easiest and safest way," Harry said loudly, and the room gradually quieted, "to give you practice in the quick thinking and reflexive movements that are required in the real world if you're battling a dark wizard." He gazed around the room. He was met with a few horrified and frightened stares (mostly from Hufflepuff students) but overall the excitement in the room was almost tangible.

"So, I'll need a volunteer to help me demonstrate," he said. As expected, no one raised a hand. "I guess I'll have to just pick someone at random…" he said, his hand going for the bowl of names.

"I'll do it," came a boy's voice. Harry looked up to see none other than Daniel standing up from his desk.

Well, this should be fun.

"Excellent!" said Harry. "All right, everyone up, and Daniel, you come up here with me." After a few minutes, the desks were all piled to the sides of the room and Daniel was at Harry's side. "So, if we could all clear the middle of the floor, we can get started."

The students filtered to one side or the other of the room, leaning against the desks or standing eagerly in the front, ready to watch. Harry led Daniel to the center of the room.

"Now, we're going to be formal about this, because we're in a classroom and have that ability," said Harry, looking around at everyone. "Obviously, if you end up fighting a dark wizard, you won't have the luxury of turn taking, but for now we'll follow the official rules of dueling. So," he said, now addressing Daniel, "we face each other."

Daniel awkwardly stepped in front of Harry.

"And then we bow to each other," Harry went on. Daniel inclined his head toward Harry as he returned the gesture, but his mind vacated the room.

"_You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter? We bow to each other… Come, the niceties must be observed… Dumbledore would like you to show your manners… I said, bow!"_

Shaking his head slightly at the memory, he straightened up again. "So, after we bow, we turn our backs to each other and walk five paces away from each other."

Daniel turned and so did Harry and he slowly walked the five paces, breathing deeply, trying to keep himself under control.

"And then we turn back around and face each other…"

"_Now you face me, like a man… straight backed and proud, the way your father died…"_

He swallowed hard, trying not to let his distress be visible.

"And now… we duel," said Harry. "And since Daniel was brave enough to volunteer, I'll even let him have first strike." He held his wand at the ready, prepping for whatever Daniel felt to throw at him. At first, Harry thought Daniel might not do anything at all, but he saw a flash of resolve cross his features just before he cast his spell.

"_Stupefy!" _he called.

"_Protego!"_ yelled Harry, drawing his wand downward in a motion that was so ingrained, it was muscle memory now. The spell ricocheted and was absorbed into the wall. It was now his turn.

"_Incarcerous!_"

Daniel, not expecting Harry's quick responsive curse, wasn't fast enough to block the spell and immediately fell to the ground, bound hand and foot with ropes.

"My rules are that no one is to be sent to the hospital wing for any reason," said Harry, walking over to Daniel. _"Finite_," he said, pointing his wand at Daniel. The ropes vanished and Daniel jumped to his feet. "No curses that physically harm the other person, and nothing that isn't easily reversed with a simple charm."

He made his way back over to the desk, fishing in the bowl of names.

"So, let's see who's first…"

* * *

"It's getting worse. Images like that haven't flashed through my brain while I was awake in years. At least before, when it started up last month, it was just dreams…"

It was after dinner, and Harry and Hermione were sitting in his room, in the armchairs by the fire, discussing the strange flashback he'd experienced that morning.

"Well, you are putting yourself pretty close to that time in your life by teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione carefully.

"Do you think I made a mistake in accepting the position?" asked Harry. "That maybe it's too close? Too personal?"

"Not at all," said Hermione. "But I think this is forcing you to deal with the past in a way that you've been putting off for four years."

He took a deep breath. She wasn't exactly wrong. He'd skated by over the last few years, caught up in relief that the wizarding world was at peace again and happy to be with Ginny. It was only when that fragile bubble he'd built for himself had started to fall apart – after he'd started his affair with Hermione – that the depression and flashbacks had set in.

"It's impossible not to bring up my past experiences," said Harry, running his hands through his hair. "I'm teaching all the same things that I used over the years to defeat the darkest wizard of the age. How can I not be relating this to my past?"

"You can't not relate it," said Hermione. "Harry, every good teacher relies on personal experience to help them teach. It just affects you a little differently because of just how much you went through, and the fact that I don't think you've fully come to terms with it."

Harry was silent.

"None of us went through what you did," she continued quietly, and she reached over to take his hand. He let her, and gripped her fingers briefly to affirm the touch. She held on as she kept talking. "Sure, Ron and I followed you and stood by you all those years, and we each destroyed a horcrux, and Neville killed Nagini. Plenty of us lost loved ones, watched people suffer and die. But Harry, the weight of the world was always on your shoulders. You got your first taste of it when you were only eleven and kept him from stealing the sorcerer's stone. Then you watched him practically come back from the dead, knowing he'd used your blood to do it. As if that wasn't bad enough, at fifteen you found out that in the end it had to be either you or him that was going to die – that you had to be the one to kill him. And then… Harry, when you saw Snape's memories… when you saw that you had to die… you didn't run. You weren't even scared. You went and you found him and you let him kill you, because you thought it was the only way to save the world. You could have run away. You could have left us all alone. But you didn't. You didn't."

She breathed deeply and blinked a few times, or else she was going to make herself cry. The depths of Harry's love and loyalty and selflessness had never known any bounds. Maybe it was because he came from a broken home. Maybe it was because he'd inherited his mother's love and his father's bravery. The only time she'd felt anything like the boundless love Harry had displayed his whole life was when she'd offered to go with him – to die with him – when she realized he was going to sacrifice himself that final night. That, and perhaps when she'd taken her parents' memories away just so they wouldn't risk being questioned and tortured for her sake.

He was still quiet, and she was worried she'd upset him.

"Harry?"

"I… Hermione," he started, "it all sounds great, when you say it like that, but…"

"But nothing," she interjected. "Harry, like it or not… you saved us all. Every last one of the people on the side of the right and good. And most of the muggle world too, probably. And it's entirely normal to be reliving some of the most horrific moments of your life that led up to that, Harry. It really is. Embrace it. Handle it. Let yourself finally feel it, and then let it go. Once you're ready… you'll be able to let it go."

She watched as he heaved a deep breath in and out and then he got up and walked towards the bed, running his hands through his hair like he always did. Not being able to bear seeing him in such distress, she stood and followed him. As she came up behind him she gently touched his arm, coaxing him to face her.

"Are you okay?" she asked gently.

"I really don't know how I could have survived the last ten years without you," he said. "You just… you always have this way of clearing everything up…"

"I'm just logical," she said, and smiled up at him as she wrapped her arms around his waist. He returned the gesture, then leaned back, still keeping his arms around her, to look down at her.

"Thank you, Hermione."

"For what?"

"For assuring me that I'm not absolutely crazy," he answered. "Obviously, I just have to let this ride out and deal with it as it comes. It's not going to be easy…"

"I'm here for you," she said, as he trailed off. "I'm always here for you."

"I know."

Their eyes locked. She felt it. The inexplicable pull. The desire for his lips on hers. That unexplainable feeling that had coursed through her veins and into her heart any time she and Harry had been so close and met eyes since they were sixteen. From that first kiss in the Astronomy tower to this moment right now – any time he held her and looked down at her this way, it was there. In varying degrees, to be sure, but it was so pronounced right now that she was absolutely sure he had to be feeling it, too.

Unbelievably, she found herself tangibly wishing that he would lean down and kiss her – a desire that had for so long been forbidden to her. She was so desperate for closeness, she was so alone…

The longer their eyes stayed locked, the more sure she became, however, that Harry wasn't going to make the move. Perhaps he truly had gotten over whatever sexual tension had been between them that had caused those escapades over Christmas… maybe he didn't feel it at all.

Then again, maybe he did, and he was thinking the exact same thing she was – wondering if she felt it like he did.

Her mind was fuzzy. Their eyes were still set on each other. Her clarity of thought was blurring like eyes with poor vision. It was this lack of clarity, she supposed, that caused what happened next.

She closed her eyes, pushed herself upwards a little, and pressed her lips to his.


	27. Friends With Benefits

**AN**: Buckle up your seat belts, folks ... it's going to be a steamy ride! It's been WAY too long, I know... Don't say I didn't warn you!

* * *

**Chapter 27**

_Friends With Benefits_

* * *

Harry's mind felt like it had exploded. She kissed him. She was kissing him. Right now.

Every desire he'd been trying so hard to beat down resurfaced as he pulled her close to him and fervently returned the kiss. It was different – it was passionate, heated, and unbridled. For the first time, neither of them had a heart that belonged to another.

He ran his hands through her hair as he teased her lips with his tongue, and she moaned into his mouth as she parted her lips and let her tongue dance with his. Deftly, he spun her around, not letting their lips leave each other, and lowered her down onto the bed, kneeling over her as they continued to share what felt like month's worth of forbidden kisses. He broke the kiss and continued to trail kisses down her jaw, to her neck, until he found the crook of her neck and gently sucked, eliciting a soft moan from her. He took a risk and positioned his knee between her legs and slowly pushed upward, rubbing against her warmth. She moaned again and ground her hips towards him and he breathed a sigh of relief as he moved his mouth back up to join hers.

Despite her affirmative reaction, he was slightly surprised when he felt her reaching for the buttons on his shirt. He broke the kiss and shrugged it off, pulling his undershirt over his head as well, before returning to her lips and unbuttoning her blouse. She sat up, removing the blouse and the tank top she'd been wearing underneath it and leaving just a gray lace bra. Harry pulled her to him and laid her down so her head was on the pillows and kissed her again, trailing back down to her neck and then to her collarbones. Carefully, he slipped a hand underneath her back and unclasped her bra. She let him slide it down her arms and toss it onto the floor, and then he quickly captured her left nipple in his mouth, caressing the other with his hand. Her back arched toward him and he heard her breathing get heavier as he sucked and nibbled on her.

After a few moments, he trailed kisses down her chest and stomach until he reached the waistband of her slacks. He quickly undid the clasp and zipper and slipped them down her legs, removing her shoes and socks along the way. She was wearing black panties and he took a moment to rub her through these before removing them as well. When he spread her legs apart a little and kissed her inner thigh she gave an impatient moan of anticipation, but he took his time kissing his way up to her center. He hesitated, letting his hot breath tease her (her breathing got ever more desperate) before leaning in and licking her slowly.

That earned him her loudest moan yet so he kept it up, moving his tongue up and down slowly and methodically, loving how fast and heavy her breathing was getting. She gasped and then moaned when he slipped his tongue inside her, loving tasting every inch of her. Then he replaced his tongue with a finger and returned to lightly licking her crevice, in rhythm with the thrusts of his finger.

Soon, her moans turned to whimpers of pleasure and he felt her beginning to tighten and clench around his finger. Knowing her climax was imminent, he sped up his mouth ever so slightly and he almost immediately felt her lose herself. She yelled out his name and then let out a long, slow moan as she came down off it. Smirking to himself, he gave her a few last licks and then brought his mouth up to hers. She kissed him greedily and then he felt her gripping at his belt. After a moment of fumbling, she'd undone the belt and fastening on his slacks, and he tugged them down and then kicked them off, along with his shoes and socks.

He eagerly returned to kissing her and moaned into her mouth when he felt her lifting her hips, teasing him by rubbing against his hardness. He was painfully desperate for release, it had been far too long since he'd experienced that sexual pleasure. He could feel how wet she was, she was practically dripping because of her orgasm, and at the same moment that he broke the kiss and latched onto her neck, he buried himself inside her in one swift motion.

She screamed – but it was one he'd heard before, a heady, full scream of ecstasy, of desperation fulfilled. He quickly brought his mouth back to hers, locking lips in a deep kiss as he slowly thrust in and out, loving how completely she encased him, how tight she was, how wet and warm… She moaned into his mouth as he moved, and she began to move with him, rocking her hips beneath him, and he knew it would be his undoing.

"Hermione…" he sighed, finally breaking the kiss and opening his eyes to look down at her. Her eyes fluttered open and met his as he continued to move, and she continued to rock her hips, her breathing heavy and peppered with moans of pleasure. He sped up and she threw her head back, moaning even louder now as he reached even deeper inside her.

"Harry, Harry…" she gasped. "Oh, Harry, I'm going to come again, oh god…"

That was all he needed to hear… he gave a few last thrusts and then felt her clenching around him, which triggered his own release. He captured her mouth again and kissed her deeply as they came together.

When he was spent, he broke the kiss and slowly lowered himself so he was lying directly on top of her, leaving himself inside her as they both caught their breath.

"Harry…" she started. "I… that…"

He nuzzled his nose into her neck, kissing her skin lightly.

"Don't tell me you didn't like it," he said, smiling into her skin.

"Of course I liked it," she sighed, reaching a hand up to rub his hair.

"You're allowed to like it, now," he whispered. "You're allowed to enjoy every last touch, free of guilt."

She rolled her head over to face him and kissed him.

"I don't know what came over me," she tried to say. "I just…"

"Shh," he said, and lightly kissed her again. "No thinking. I've been wanting it for a while now."

"Me too," she admitted.

They were silent for a moment.

"Shower with me?" asked Harry, smiling at her.

She giggled. "Sure."

Slowly, he pulled himself out of her and sat up, then slid off the bed and stood up.

"Join me whenever you're ready," he said, and slipped into the bathroom. He got the water running immediately and, thanks to the wonderful charms on the Hogwarts pipes, the water was hot right away. He had hardly wet himself down before Hermione had joined him, smiling up at him sheepishly. He returned the smile and kissed her forehead, then let her trade places with him, so she could warm up under the water.

He watched her as she closed her eyes and let the water run through her hair, down her face, and then allowed it to trickle down her body. The droplets clung to her breasts, dripping off her nipples, and he couldn't help but to stare. He wanted to touch her, caress her, feel her… as if he hadn't just done all those things a few minutes previously.

Unable to help himself, he leaned down and took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking deftly.

"Harry!" she gasped in surprised. "What… mmmm," she said, as his hand wandered between her legs and rubbed her gently. He felt her lean backwards – she had let herself collapse into the shower wall – and he took the more open position as an opportunity to kneel down and gently spread her legs apart. He went right for her crevice with his mouth, lapping at the combination of her wetness and the water. He chanced a glance upward and her eyes were closed and she was gripping at the shower wall behind her, her chest heaving as she moaned while he licked at her.

He felt himself getting hard just at the sight. He wanted her again.

He pulled himself up, pressing her against the shower wall, letting his hardness rub between her legs.

"Wait," she said, and he was concerned for a moment until she took his place on the floor, kneeling before him. She smiled up at him, and then took him into her mouth. He gasped and leaned against the shower wall. He was sure he'd seen stars. She was so good, her mouth felt so amazing… He felt her grip his hips as she took him even deeper in, rubbing her tongue against him as he thrust in and out of her mouth. He couldn't take it anymore.

"Hermione," he growled, and he knelt down with her, kissing her. "Get on all fours," he whispered in her ear. Her eyes sparked with interest before she obeyed, turning around and leaning down, placing her hands on the wet floor. Harry leaned over her and kissed all the way up her spine until he placed a final kiss just behind her ear, then slowly eased into her. He groaned with pleasure. She was even tighter since she'd had two orgasms, and still so wet.

"Oh, Harry…" she moaned. He'd never taken her this way before… he knew that. It was bound to feel different.

"Just feel," he said softly, thrusting into her again. "Does it feel good?"

"Yes…" she sighed, as he gave yet another thrust. He gradually sped up and she got progressively more responsive, moaning louder and breathing heavier the faster he got.

"Harry, Harry!" she cried, and her hands slid forward. She was now supporting herself on her elbows, and the new angle allowed him to penetrate deeper – she screamed again, and he knew she had to be getting close to another climax, her erratic breathing and whimpering yells could mean nothing else. He could feel his building, too, but he wanted her to come again before he did.

"Come for me, Hermione," he whispered. "I want you to come."

These words were apparently all she needed, because she screamed as he felt the telltale tightening of her walls around him, and he, too, reached climax, giving a few last thrusts before pulling out of her. She flipped over and sat on the floor, scooting backward so her back was resting against the wall. Her eyes were closed and she was panting.

"Harry, you just… you're just… you're amazing," she managed to say.

"So are you," he replied. He was kneeling in front of her, and he leaned over her legs and kissed her. "Come on, let me help you up," he said, standing up and holding a hand out for her. Carefully, she grabbed a hold of him and raised herself to a standing position, letting the water run over her back. Harry grabbed a washcloth and covered it in soap, rubbing it between his hands until it built up lather. Instead of using it himself, however, he gently ran it over Hermione's curves. First her shoulders, then down to her stomach, and finally dipping it between her legs. She giggled at him and then took the cloth from him, repeating the process on his body. When she was finished, he leaned down and kissed her, running his hands up and down her arms.

"It's getting late," she said shyly. He reached behind her and turned off the water.

"I know," he answered. He stepped out of the shower and grabbed two towels, handing one to Hermione.

"I should probably be getting back to my room…" she said. Harry turned to look at her.

"Stay here, with me," he said, and he hoped it didn't sound too demanding. "I mean, if you want to…"

She regarded him carefully.

"All right," she answered finally. "That's easier anyway."

He smiled at her, then stepped out of the bathroom and walked to the bed. He turned down the blankets, tossing the excess pillows to the floor, and then slipped between the wonderfully warm sheets. Hermione followed soon after, getting into the bed on the other side. He turned over so he was facing her.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm wonderful, Harry," she answered, smiling at him. He smiled back, then rolled onto his back and grabbed his wand off the nightstand, using it to extinguish the lights in the room. Hermione scooted closer to him and he put his arm around her as she snuggled into him and laid her head on his chest. She yawned, then sighed.

"Night, Harry," she whispered.

"Night, Hermione."

* * *

Hermione blearily opened her eyes the following morning, squinting against the sunlight sneaking in through the curtains. The room felt unfamiliar somehow, but she couldn't quite figure out what, as she was still in a sleepy haze. She took a deep breath and blinked a few times, trying to focus her mind…

Today was Tuesday, right, so she had the first years during the nine o' clock first period, right after breakfast…

Wait a moment, what time was it now?

She fumbled on the end table for her watch, only to find it wasn't there. She sat up, her eyes fully open now, and then she realized: she wasn't in her room. It was far too red to be her room.

It was Harry's room.

And the night before… oh God.

She turned to her right and saw Harry, sleeping soundly. He was naked. So was she.

Well… they'd really done it, hadn't they?

Peering over Harry's sleeping form, she saw a bedside clock on his nightstand. She squinted at it and was able to make out the time. 7:45, only fifteen minutes before breakfast. She shrieked and jumped out of the bed, scanning the room for her clothes from the night before and hurriedly throwing them on. The commotion woke Harry and she turned around to see him rubbing his eyes, supporting himself on one arm and staring at her as she finished buttoning her blouse.

"Where you headed?" he mumbled.

"Breakfast!" she said, pulling on her shoes. "Well, I mean, after I go into my room and change my clothes and freshen up…"

"Is it that late?" asked Harry, glancing at the clock.

"It's almost eight!" she said. "You might not have classes Tuesday mornings, but I do!" She was finally entirely dressed. "I've got to go get ready, I'll see you later," she said, and disappeared from the room.

Harry stared at the spot where she'd been, trying to process the thousand or so thoughts rushing into his brain.

She'd kissed him.

They'd had sex. Twice.

And then she'd stayed with him. Slept next to him.

It wasn't a dream. It actually happened.

And she was in such a rush this morning that she hadn't said one word about it, whether negative or otherwise.

Which, of course, left him in a state of emotional unrest, since at this point he had no idea how to process what happened. Would it happen again? Was it just sex? Was it more? Was she just so sexually frustrated that she'd desperately fucked the first available person? Was she going to spend her morning teaching Charms to teenagers and be daydreaming about the night before? Or would she be agonizing over it and trying to decide how to tell him it was a mistake?

Though he probably could have managed to make it to breakfast, he didn't want to make things awkward between he and Hermione, so he threw on some halfway decent clothes to be prepared for teaching later (he'd have the sixth years at eleven, just before lunch) and resolved to call Kreacher to bring him breakfast instead.

* * *

Hermione took a few deep breaths before walking into Harry's empty classroom after third period. His students had all gone to lunch already, but Harry was sitting at his desk at the front of the room, reading over parchments.

"Do you have a minute?" she asked timidly. His head jerked up at her voice.

"Hermione, you scared me," he said, but smiled. "Of course I have a minute."

She sighed and then sat down on the student's desk directly in front of him, waving her wand in the general direction of the door behind her. It shut and locked decisively.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Look, you can't pretend you don't know what I want to talk about," she huffed, crossing her arms.

"What ever do you mean, Hermione?" He smiled coyly.

Oh good heavens, was he _really_ going to be this difficult on purpose?

"Last night!" she hissed in a whisper, though they were quite alone and unable to be overheard. "What the hell happened?" she demanded.

"You know," he said, becoming serious, "I could really be asking you the same thing. After all, you're the one who kissed me…"

She shifted guiltily.

"I know, but… but why did we keep going?" she asked helplessly, uncrossing her arms and grasping her hands together in her lap. "I mean, Harry, it was… It was entirely unexpected, I mean…"

"Was it?" he asked, leaning toward her. "Didn't we both admit, before we went to sleep, that we'd both been wanting it for a while? So, was it really that unexpected?"

This was true. She had been longing to kiss him before last night. But why? Just because she hadn't had sex in weeks and knew Harry could provide?

"Well, no, I… I suppose it wasn't _entirely_ unexpected…" she admitted. "And I can't even begin to pretend I didn't _enjoy_ it…"

"I know," he smirked. "So did I."

"But, Harry, this is a real problem, it's…"

"Is it a problem?" he interrupted. "It's not cheating anymore, Hermione," he reminded her. "We're both single. Fully, completely single."

"But we're _friends_!" she insisted. "Not lovers!"

Even as she said it, she knew it wasn't true. If there was ever a person in her life that could be described as her "lover," it was Harry. He was the only person she'd ever had sex with that she hadn't been emotionally devoted to at the time of intercourse.

"You know," said Harry slowly, "there is this concept of 'friends with benefits'…"

She blinked at him as he trailed off. He could _not_ be serious.

"Harry, that's ridiculous. It's… it's juvenile, and immature, and…"

"… And exactly what we are?" he finished.

She was silent. Friends with benefits? Her and Harry? It was crazy.

But was it, really? They enjoyed having sex with each other, obviously… now they could do it freely, without guilt.

And heaven knew it would sure as hell take her mind off of agonizing over Ron… blundering twit…

"So, what you're saying," she began slowly, "is that any time either of us fancies having sex, we just… go to the other person's door and offer?"

"More or less," he answered. "Don't say you don't like the idea," he teased. "Come on, we both know we enjoy it. Now we don't have to pretend to not want it anymore."

"And if…" she swallowed, as the idea was still relatively painful to her, "If… if one of us, you know… finds someone else… to date…"

"Then we'll stop," he said simply.

Silence took over again for a moment.

"Hermione," he said, getting serious again, "I don't know what it is, but there's a connection there. Between you and me. There's just something that feels very… very right, when we're together… especially in bed. I'm comfortable with you. I trust you. You're my best friend… but I also love being in bed with you. That connection, it was always there, ever since first year, but after that first time we kissed, it really came alive, at least for me. We've spent years trying to crush it, to stamp it away… why not water it? Cultivate it? See what happens?"

Hermione couldn't even look him in the eyes after that. She took several deep breaths, staring down at her hands in her lap, twisting her fingers together and digging her nails into her palms.

He was right, she knew that he was. There was an unspoken bond, an attachment that just couldn't be severed, between them. When she was younger she'd just thought it was a strong friendship… after they'd kissed in the Astronomy tower, she'd wondered if it was more, but had pushed it away in favor of Ron.

Maybe it was just a strong bond of friendship. Maybe it was some entirely new emotion that hadn't been discovered yet.

But Harry was right, they'd spent years trying to ignore it or get rid of it, and neither of them had succeeded. That's why they'd lost their virginity to each other in the tent, that's why they'd kissed after Christmas shopping, that's why she'd felt that electricity at the Yuletide Ball, that's why they'd slept together on Christmas…

And that's why they'd slept together last night.

Eventually, a cure was going to be found for the virus and Flitwick would be back to teaching. She'd go home, Harry would stay here.

Bearing that in mind… what harm could really come of giving it a go?

"So… we're friends," she said, finally looking up at him.

"Always."

"With… benefits," she said, trying out the word.

"If you want to be," he said quietly.

"Right…" she said. "I guess we'll just have to… see how things play out," she said slowly, standing up from the desk. "Now, are you going to come to lunch with me, or not?"

"Happily," he smiled, and stood from the desk and followed her out of the room.


	28. OWL Consultations

**AN**: Updates have slowed down a little because busy season is beginning, so to make up for that this chapter is a little longer. With some nice steam at the end. ;-)

* * *

**Chapter 28**

_O.W.L. Consultations_

* * *

In the back of Harry's mind, he'd known this day was coming. He'd pushed the thought off, saying he'd figure it out eventually, and suddenly, it was late March and it was time for his O.W.L. consultations with the fifth year Gryffindors, being that he was Head of House.

Hermione had done her best to help coach him, and McGonagall had given him a list of popular wizarding occupations and what N.E.W.T.s were required for them. Harry knew he could easily advise anyone who wanted to be an Auror – after all, not only had he had that same conversation in fifth year with McGonagall, but he'd gone on to pursue the career track after defeating Voldemort.

Everything else, however… well, he supposed he'd just have to keep consulting the list McGonagall had given him. Though, he thought as he gazed at it, logically speaking, it really made sense anyway.

Fortunately for him, the first student who sat down with him on that March afternoon was a boisterous boy who always paid rapt attention to his Defense Against the Dark Arts lectures and who, unsurprisingly to Harry, wanted to be an Auror.

"I've always liked Defense," he gushed, "it's always been my best subject. But especially after you came in, Professor, it's just really come alive for me! I'd love to be an Auror like you were!"

"Well, I'm flattered, David," said Harry, glancing back through the grade book at David's Defense grades – both the ones Harry had given him, and from before, when Maelyss was teaching. "You definitely seem to have performed really well in Defense this year, but how are you doing in your other subjects?"

He shifted uneasily. "I mean… I do all right. Charms is pretty good, but everything else is just boring…"

"What's your average in Charms right now?" Harry asked, furrowing his brow.

"I had an E before Professor Granger came in," he said defensively, "but now I've dropped to an A. She grades really tough," he explained.

"I see…" said Harry, making a mental note to ask Hermione about that later. "And what about your other classes?"

"Well, I've kept on Care of Magical Creatures after third year because I liked being able to go outside for class sometimes… But I don't really pay attention. I think I've got an A there... Herbology's an A, too… but Professor Longbottom has actually kept it pretty interesting!" he said, perking up. "And then Potions and Transfiguration… I keep going back and forth. For a while I'll hold an E and then I'll drop to an A and then go back up. It's hard to keep them steady."

"What do you think is holding you back in Potions and Transfiguration?" asked Harry.

"I dunno," replied David. "I guess maybe sometimes I try harder than others…"

"Well, there's your problem," said Harry. "I hate to break it to you, David, but getting into the Auror program at the Ministry of Magic is pretty tough. You'll need to get to N.E.W.T. level in Defense, obviously, but also in Potions, Charms, Herbology, and Transfiguration. They say any five N.E.W.T.s will do, but those five are really your best bet," he said. "Now I'll have a chat with Professor Granger about how hard she's being in Charms and see if maybe she can sit down with you to see where you can improve… But even after you pass your N.E.W.T.s and graduate, there's a lot of testing for aptitude and skill to become an Auror," he cautioned.

As he spoke, David's shoulders slumped lower and lower.

"I'm not saying it's not possible!" said Harry. "You're a really bright kid, David – you just need to apply yourself these last few months so that when O.W.L.s come, you can get at least an E on them in all those subjects so you can get to N.E.W.T. level."

"What if I don't make it?" asked David. "What then?"

Harry glanced at his cheat sheet.

"If you really think you want to get into catching dark wizards, the Auror department is just one way to do it," he began. "There are other positions within the Magical Law Enforcement Squad that aren't as rigorous. Most of them only require a N.E.W.T. in Defense, Charms, and Transfiguration."

"Oh, really?" he asked, his posture returning to upright.

"They probably aren't quite as dangerous and exciting as being an Auror, to be sure," said Harry, "but it'll still give you the ability to serve and protect."

"That makes me feel loads better," said David. "Thanks."

"Anytime. So, you'll still shoot for those five E's in your O.W.L.s, right?"

"Right!" he said, beaming.

"Great," said Harry. "I think we've got you settled then… go ahead and send in whoever's next."

"Next" turned out to be a very bright but quiet girl named Jessica. She performed rather horribly in his classes, but he'd heard from Hermione that she was fairly proficient in Charms and other teachers had said she did well also.

"I'd like to be an Arithmancer," she said quietly. "You know, someone who uses charts and things to try and predict future events."

Harry raised his eyebrows and referred to the sheet McGonagall had given him. "Arithmancer" was right above "Auror" on the top.

"Well, the good news is you won't need to take my class after this year…" he said, and she chuckled hesitantly. "How are your grades elsewhere?"

"I've got a really full load," she said. "I get by in Potions and Herbology and Transfiguration all right… usually I get A's and E's… but I've got almost perfect O's in Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Astronomy, and I have solid E's in Charms and Divination."

"That really is a full load," said Harry. "No wonder you don't like my class."

She frowned. "It's not that I don't like your class, it's just… not what I'm good at…"

"I was kidding," said Harry, smiling at her. "Everyone has their own strengths."

She hesitantly smiled back.

"You're on the right track," he went on. "Arithmancy is a very academic career, lots of books and theory and studying, but of course you know that. You'll need to get into N.E.W.T. level in Arithmancy, obviously, but also Ancient Runes, Divination, Charms, and Astronomy. You seem like you'll have no trouble there."

"Thanks," she said quietly, and smiled up at him.

"Go ahead and send in who's next."

After Jessica was Chris – Harry wasn't sure how he did in other classes, but he was a troublemaker in Defense. He reminded Harry a lot of Fred and George, right down to beating a Beater on Gryffindor's Quidditch team. He played very well – Gryffindor had played against Hufflepuff last weekend and Gryffindor had crushed them, in part due to Chris's relentless Bludger attacks. It clearly ran in the family, because Chris's little brother, Patrick, was on Harry's junior Quidditch league, and Patrick played the best as a Beater.

Harry wasn't surprised, therefore, when Chris announced that he wanted to be a professional Quidditch player.

"That's quite ambitious," said Harry.

"I don't like school," he said. "It's boring. Quidditch is fun, and that's where the money is."

"It does pay well," admitted Harry, "but it's very difficult to get onto a Quidditch team, and it's not a very long-lasting career, either. Most Quidditch players have to retire before they even hit thirty-five because it takes such a toll on the body."

"Yeah, well, by then I'll have enough money to last me," said Chris, leaning his chair back onto its back legs. "Do you like Quidditch?" he asked nonchalantly.

Harry chuckled. "I love Quidditch," he said. "I was the Gryffindor team's seeker the entire time I was at Hogwarts, and I became the team captain in my sixth year."

"No way!" he said, letting his chair fall onto all four legs again with a loud _bang_. "That's wicked! I never knew!"

"I was told I was the best seeker in a century," said Harry, "but you don't see me playing Quidditch for a living."

"But that's because you defeated the Dark Lord and stuff," said Chris. "I mean, duh, of course you'd go on to be an Auror after that. But I'm not good at any of that stuff. I just want to play Quidditch."

"Regardless," began Harry, "I think you should have a back up plan, just in case. I'm sure your parents don't want to see you drop out of school after fifth year."

"Yeah, yeah…" he grumbled.

"What else fancies you?" Harry prodded. "If Quidditch didn't exist as of tomorrow, what would you want to do?"

Chris was silent for a moment as he thought.

"Last summer," he began finally, "my parents took me and my brother over to Romania on holiday. While we there, we got to see some dragons, and that was _really_ awesome. So I guess being someone who studies and takes care of dragons wouldn't be too bad – that's called a Dragonologist, right?"

Harry had looked over the Dragonologist requirements more carefully than some of the other occupations merely out of curiosity, since that what Charlie Weasley did for a living.

"Yes, that's a Dragonologist," said Harry. "That's got a pretty nice spread of classes – you'll need to get to N.E.W.T. level in Care of Magical Creatures, of course, but also Herbology, Defense, and Charms. Transfiguration wouldn't hurt, I'd think, but it's not required."

"That's not so bad," conceded Chris. "I like Defense, especially with you," he said. "Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures are easy classes. Charms though… that Granger lady is a tough one."

This was the second student to tell him that Hermione was a harsh grader. He'd definitely have to talk to her. She couldn't grade expecting everyone to go through classes as perfectly as she had…

"Well, let's say that's the track you're headed towards for now," said Harry, "assuming you don't get drafted to play for the Scotland National Quidditch team."

"Thanks, Professor," he said, beaming at him and hopping out of his chair.

The rest of the afternoon went by fairly easily – he had a couple more students insist they wanted to be Aurors after being inspired by him, one or two that said they wanted to be Healers, and even one who desperately wanted to be a Herbologist. Once he was done, his stomach was relentlessly grumbling for dinner, which he realized was starting in five minutes at six, so he locked up his office and headed to the Great Hall, taking his normal seat next to Hermione at the Head Table.

"So? How did the O.W.L. consultations go?" prodded Hermione.

"Really well, actually," said Harry. "Lots of future Aurors…"

"You're not really surprised are you?" she asked, smiling. "How many times do I have to tell you, they love you… you're like an idol to them. I've overheard several upper classmen who didn't keep on with Defense after fifth year say they wished they had now that you're here."

"Is that so?"

"Well, I mean, to be fair, they're mainly girls who have a crush on you…"

"Oh please, you're joking," he said, after snorting laughter into his water goblet.

"Honestly, Harry, you're so blind sometimes…" she said, shaking her head as he patted his face down with a napkin from the spray of water. "You're a hero to the wizarding world, you're incredibly handsome, and you're just old enough to be off limits to a sixteen year old. You're like a god to the teenage female libido."

Harry was still chuckling as he returned the napkin to his lap. "Unfortunately for them," he began, and looked over at Hermione, "I only have eyes for you."

Color rushed to her cheeks and she looked away from him. In hindsight, he realized, that was a rather romantic thing to say to your best-friend-turned-lover, and he was just beginning to regret the words when she answered.

"I'd be lying if I didn't say I was a tiny bit irrationally jealous when I realized half the girls in the school want to sleep with you," she said quietly, without looking at him.

Harry felt a familiar tingle in his spine that he knew was the beginnings of arousal. They hadn't touched, or kissed, or done anything intimate at all since the Monday that McGonagall had announced Maelyss's death and Harry's permanent position replacing him. That had been nearly two weeks ago. Though they had agreed that there was nothing wrong with it and they wouldn't feel guilty if such ministrations continued, nothing had happened.

"Oh, really?" he whispered. "You, jealous?"

As he said it, his hand – still resting in his lap from when he'd replaced the napkin – sneaked over to her leg and brushed her knee. She gasped, almost inaudibly, but Harry heard the catch in her breath. Slowly, he ran his fingers up her leg, letting them drift more inward as he went, until he had nearly reached her center. Her breathing was visibly strained as he lifted his fingers and returned his hand to his own lap.

"Harry… you…"

"Maybe after dinner I can remind you just what it is all those girls want… and prove to you that you get to enjoy it whenever you like."

The redness in her cheeks was very overt, as was her discomfort. Whether it was a good or bad discomfort, he wasn't positive about yet.

"If you don't calm down," he whispered carefully, "someone is going to realize something is up…"

He drank nonchalantly out of his goblet when he finished talking, being careful not to look at her, but he heard her take a deep breath in and out.

"Fine, you win," she whispered. "Your room, tonight. But not until nine. I have papers to grade, first."

He just smiled at her and then returned to his plate.

* * *

She stood in front of his door at precisely nine o'clock, debating for a moment on whether or not to knock. Upon hearing a noise somewhere down the corridor, however, she decided it wouldn't look very professional to be standing outside Harry's quarters so late in the evening, and quickly opened the door and stepped inside so she wasn't seen.

He was sitting at his desk, flipping through what looked like his grade book, and looked up when she came in.

"Hey," he said, and smiled at her. She smiled back shyly.

"Hi," she answered.

She had no idea why she felt so nervous. It's not like they hadn't had sex before. And after his stunt at dinner earlier she'd been so turned on all evening that she'd hardly been able to concentrate on grading. But, she reminded herself, every time previous to this when they'd had sex, it had been unexpected. It was always in the middle of some totally ordinary exchange – talking about the War, saying goodbye after the Yuletide Ball, discussing the day's classes. It was never premeditated or planned out like this. This was truly crossing the line into actual "friends with benefits" territory rather than "best friends with unresolved sexual tension."

"You know, an interesting theme came up today in my O.W.L. consults with the fifth years," he said, closing the grade book and standing up from his desk. She watched as he stared down at the leather tome and then ran his hand through his hair.

Damn it, every move he made was sexy.

"What theme was that?" she asked, wondering what this had to do with why she was here.

"Well, there's a lot of students – most of them, actually – that are going to need to get to N.E.W.T. level in Charms," he answered. He was now cleaning his glasses on his shirt and seemed intent on the project.

"And…?" she prodded.

"And," said Harry, replacing his glasses back on his nose and finally meeting her eyes, "all the fifth years I talked to today seem to think that Professor Granger is an incredibly harsh grader who might be a detriment to their ability to successfully gain an E or better in the course."

She was dumbfounded.

"A _detriment _to their ability!" she exclaimed. "That's absolutely absurd, I'm a perfectly fair grader, and besides, my grades in the course don't matter, it's what the O.W.L. examiner gives them for a grade that counts!"

"Calm down, Hermione," he said, walking towards her. "I know that it's the O.W.L. examiner that really matters, but their confidence will be shot if they can't pull anything above an A in your class."

He was in front of her now, and he'd placed his hands on her shoulders.

"You were so fabulously brilliant in school that you expect everyone else to perform the same way," he said. "You can't do that. If you see someone who's really struggling, offer to help them instead of just giving a low grade. I talked to some kids today who really like Charms but they feel trapped because they can't pull themselves up to where they were when Flitwick was here."

She couldn't even believe Harry was having this conversation with her. Like he'd been a teacher for so much longer than she had, and like he had all the answers, and…

But hadn't she been telling him since they got here that he was born to be a teacher? That he was a natural, that he was perfect at it? And, to be fair, he was the one who'd had frank and candid chats with all of the Gryffindor fifth years today, so he should certainly have more insight than she would.

"Well, Flitwick will be back eventually and then everyone can go back to having their grades the way they like them," she said bitterly. She'd come here nervous, expecting hot and passionate sex, and she was getting lectured instead. Not exactly how she'd planned to spend the evening.

"At this point we don't know when he'll be back," said Harry gently. He put a finger under her chin and brought her face up to look at him, as she'd been staring angrily at the floor. "Hermione, please don't be upset. I just wanted you to think about the fact that maybe you're grading a little too harshly. Maybe take a look at how you're grading and adjust it a little. That's all. I just got the opportunity to get honest feedback from the fifth years today and I figured you'd appreciate the insight."

She bit her lip. It was wrong of her to be callous about this and she knew it. Harry was right, the insight into the heads of her students was very valuable information and she should have known better than to think he was scolding her or trying to tell her what to do.

"I'm not upset," she said, and gave him a small smile. He smiled back.

"Good," he answered. "Angry sex is great, but that's not what I had in mind," he smirked, and then leaned in and kissed her.

All at once, her insides melted and she fell into his arms, kissing him back greedily. Any thought of the last five minutes of conversation disappeared from her head entirely as she lost herself in his kiss, loving the now-familiar feeling of their tongues dancing together. She almost didn't notice that he had steered her toward the bed until he laid her down on it, nuzzling and kissing at her neck as he did so. It sent shivers up her spine to feel his lips massaging her skin, and she sighed when she felt him pulling at the buttons of her blouse, slowly undoing them until it fell open. She sat up and shrugged it off, then did the same to Harry, unbuttoning his dress shirt until he, too, was rid of it. He also pulled his undershirt off and in one swift motion reached a hand around Hermione's back and unclasped her bra. It loosened and slumped down her shoulders.

"Impatient, are we?" she chided, but smiled as she pulled it off and tossed it to the floor.

"Maybe a little," he answered, smirking back at her before he leaned forward and sucked on one of her nipples. She moaned at the sensation as he swirled his tongue around before he softly bit down and then she gasped in pleasure, repeating the noises when he did the same to her other breast. He then kissed his way down her stomach – her nerves fluttered each time his lips touched her skin – and stopped when he reached her waistband, carefully undoing the fastening of her slacks and then sliding them down her legs along with her knickers, shoes, and socks, and throwing them to the side.

She still got uncomfortable being naked in front of him if he wasn't doing anything yet to pleasure her, and she squirmed a little as she watched him undo his own slacks.

"Are you all right?" he asked, noticing her movement and gazing down at her with concern. His hands paused on his belt as he looked at her.

"I'm fine," she said quietly. "I just… I just can't stop feeling shy. When I'm with you… like this."

He dropped his hands and furrowed his brow, leaning down over her until his lips were right by her ear.

"Hermione, you're beautiful," he whispered, and placed a kiss on her earlobe. "You have nothing to be ashamed of," he continued, kissing just below her ear this time. "I want you…" he said, kissing her neck. Her stomach jumped. "Every inch of you…" he finished huskily, biting down on the crook of her neck. She moaned and then suddenly he was kissing her. His lips melted away her anxiety as if it were ice on a hot summer day, and just when she began to get lost in the kiss, she felt his fingers slip between her legs.

She let out a long sigh that developed into a moan as he slowly rubbed her wetness. His calloused fingers always felt so good, so delightfully rough yet incredibly tender… She yelped into the kiss as his finger slipped inside of her and she reached up and grabbed the back of his head, pulling him closer to her and kissing him deeper as she moaned into his mouth while he worked. He started slow, but gradually built up speed and then began rubbing her clit as he fingered her.

It felt so good that she broke the kiss and gasped, throwing her head back onto the pillow and grabbing the sheets with her hands. She was gasping for breath by the time he stopped and stood up to finally get his slacks off.

Nerves? Shyness? What were those things? All of her sense of anxiety had vacated entirely in favor of her desperate need to have Harry inside of her.

But first…

She gave a small smile as she heard his slacks drop to the floor and she looked over at him as he stepped out of them and removed his shoes and socks. His boxers were also in the pile at his feet, so he was now just as naked as she was. And she wanted him. Badly.

As he walked back over to the bed, though, she stopped him when he got to the edge.

"Wait," she said simply, and smiled up at him as she rolled over onto her stomach and scooted to the edge of the bed, her feet just touching the opposite side before she gripped his legs and then took his length into her mouth. She heard his gasp and felt his balance waver a little when she did it and she smirked inwardly as she sucked on him, swirling her tongue around the tip and then sliding her mouth all the way down and back up again, repeating the process over and over until he stopped her.

"I need you," he panted, coaxing her to roll over and scoot her head back toward the pillows. "I have to be inside you, I can't take it…"

As he knelt over her she spread her legs so he could settle between them and reached her head up to kiss him as she felt him slowly slip inside of her. He practically growled with desire and broke the kiss, nuzzling his nose into her neck and kissing her there as he thrust in and out of her. She gasped and moaned with every thrust, rocking her hips to meet him each time.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she was reminded of what he'd said earlier, at dinner. That he was going to remind her what all those teenage girls wanted and that he was all hers. Only hers.

Well, if he was all hers, she was going to claim him as such.

"I want to be on top," she whispered. He slowed down and met her eyes. There was a sparkle in them that she could only assume was insatiable desire.

"Whatever you like," he said, and slowly pulled out of her and rolled over onto his back. She quickly followed, straddling him and mimicking his motion of leaning down for a kiss. As his tongue dipped into her mouth, she lowered herself onto him and he bucked his hips so he thrust all the way in. She couldn't help it, she gasped and then moved her mouth to his shoulder as he continued thrusting upwards. She buried her head in the crook of his neck and moaned his name over and over again as he moved, until he finally slowed down and she was able to look at him again.

"Your turn," he said simply, and gently pushed on her chest to signal she should sit up.

Oh, yes…

She happily obliged to the unspoken request and righted herself so that she was supporting her own weight on her knees. Not breaking eye contact, she rocked her hips and watched as he moaned. She did it again, and again, and soon he had reached up and grabbed her hips, steadying her as she rode him faster and faster… and then he took one of his hands and sneakily placed his thumb underneath her, so that with every motion of her hips her clit rubbed against the calloused pad of his thumb.

She saw colors, she was certain of it. It was pleasure that she'd never imagined or experienced before. Her whole body was responding, every nerve ending was tingling, there was a waterfall of sensation from her head down to her center where he was touching her.

It was pure ecstasy, and every thrust of her hips increased it exponentially until she knew an orgasm was coming, that sweet release that would make her mind and heart explode with desire and pleasure… each time she thought it had to be coming, the sensations just got deeper and stronger until she felt sure her climax would break her in half… When it finally came, she screamed. Long and loud.

Harry pulled her down and kissed her, keeping the movement of his hips up and thrusting into her again and again as she came, and then suddenly he was coming, too… she could feel him pulsating inside of her and he moaned with her into her mouth as he kissed her fiercely while he gave a last few thrusts and then slowed to a stop. She lifted her head slightly, panting as she stared down at him.

"Wow, I just… wow… I mean… that was…"

"Yeah," he agreed, panting as well. "Me too."

If she had regained any sense of coherence she would have found it funny that they were having a conversation based on assumptions and muttered phrases rather than actual words and sentences, but at the moment she was too tired and spent to think straight. She kissed Harry one more time as she lifted herself off of him and then rolled over onto her back, sighing as she slipped under the covers.

"I can stay, right?" she mumbled, her eyes already closed. She heard him chuckle in between his still heavy breaths.

"Yes, Hermione," he breathed. "You can always stay."


	29. The Cure

**AN:** Yes, yes, I know, it was a little long between updates, I'm sorry... This chapter was carefully crafted and written over the course of a full week, so it should be worth the wait... Summer is fast approaching and that's when I'll basically die of stress and an overloaded schedule... so here's hoping this wraps up before then...

* * *

**Chapter 29**

_The Cure_

* * *

It was unbelievable how fast time went by when you weren't paying attention to it. The finicky temperament of March had steadily slipped into the warm days and cool nights of April and suddenly, spring was upon the castle in full force. Harry, Hermione and Neville had now been present at Hogwarts as teachers for nearly two months, and Harry was still having to pinch himself every so often to make sure that he wasn't dreaming – he really was the official, permanent, full-time Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher and Head of Gryffindor House.

Neville was doing spectacularly well, and Harry really thought that Professor Sprout might have to curse her way back into her position once she was cured. Every so often Harry looked back on the nervous and blundering boy Neville had been ten years ago; the change that he had undergone growing up and after Voldemort was defeated had made Neville almost unrecognizable. He stood tall, he walked with confidence, and he spoke with assurance. Even if Neville didn't end up staying at Hogwarts, Harry was sure that this experience would be the capstone for rounding out Neville's character.

Hermione had chatted with him a few times about her harsh grading practices since he'd talked to her about his O.W.L. consultations. It had been very eye opening for her, clearly, because she seemed to be making great improvement with her courses and her overall approval among the students was increasing. Harry had checked in with one or two of the students who'd specifically mentioned her tough grades and they'd affirmed that things were looking up in their Charms course.

In retrospect, he had realized that his talk with Hermione about her grading criteria might have been overstepping his bounds – though he was Head of Gryffindor House, he had no power to tell other teachers what to do – but after her initial bristling reaction, she had appeared glad that he'd said what he did. After all, he'd been talking to her as a friend, not as a fellow teacher.

He caught himself occasionally hoping selfishly that the cure for the super virus continued to be evasive. While he felt badly for Maelyss's death and for the families of everyone affected by those still in St. Mungo's, he knew that once they found a cure, Hermione would be gone from Hogwarts. What bothered him the most was that she didn't seem all that distressed by this – at least not as much as he was.

Twice, he had casually tried to get her to agree to just move some of her things into his room. She was spending more and more nights with him – three to four in every week, now – but she still insisted on returning to her room early in the morning before she'd risk being seen.

"Harry, what if someone sees me leaving your room morning after morning, ready for the day? People will talk…" she'd said, the last time he'd tried it.

"So what if they do?" he'd countered. "We're two consenting adults. What, do you think they'll try to ban us from being in each other's room?"

"It can't be looked upon highly for teachers to be in a relationship with each other…" she'd said.

Harry had raised his eyebrows when she'd said it.

"A _relationship_?" he'd repeated. "Are we in a 'relationship'?"

He hadn't meant for it to sound so callous and harsh. He really hadn't. It was supposed to be more incredulous than anything – that she would put such a label on their time together.

Regardless, she had blushed and corrected herself.

"You know what I mean. A sexual relationship. I mean, really, what would McGonagall say? If she knew?"

"Probably that she'd seen it coming since we were in school together," Harry laughed. "It wouldn't be the first time I'd heard it said."

She'd smiled in spite of herself.

"Still," she'd said. "It's… it's unprofessional, and some might say it's unhealthy."

And so, he'd let it go. They remained, for all intents and outward appearances, just friends. The "unprofessional" comment he understood, to a point. Consenting adults though they might be, he could only imagine the drama that would ensue if the students found out that the Charms professor was sleeping with the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"Unhealthy" had been a little harder to swallow. Granted, she did only say "some" might find it unhealthy, but really, what was unhealthy about consistent sex with the same person when you both agreed to the arrangement? It's not like they were sleeping around with multiple people or purposely deceiving each other.

That conversation – it had happened about a week ago – still rang in his head every night. It stung a little, knowing that she didn't feel the sort of attachment to him that he did to her. (Or if she did, she didn't show it.) He knew she was still a little sore over Ron – he couldn't blame her at all – and it upset him that he couldn't help her forget.

To be honest, he wasn't even positive what exactly this attachment to Hermione was. Before, it was easy to assume that he simply didn't want to lose the company of his best friend. Now that sex was in the mix… well, that complicated things. As their sexual encounters became more frequent, they also became more passionate. They were deeper, more connected, with more feeling. And that much he knew she did feel. She was definitely aware of the slight change in the sex, because she'd said so just last night.

She'd lain on top of him, panting and clutching at his chest after they'd finished together while she rode him, and she'd breathed out the question that had shocked him into oblivion.

"Harry… I think… did we… Did we just… make _love_?"

He'd repeated it in his head a few times before answering her. He'd only referred to their sexual encounters as "making love" out loud once – and that had been on Christmas Eve, after he'd kissed her, and he'd asked her to "make love" to him. Inwardly, to be sure, he'd used the term, but to hear it said aloud, by Hermione, when she'd been so careful to maintain a platonic front over these last few weeks… It rang through his head like a cannonball.

"I think that's what it's called," he'd replied cheekily. He didn't know what else to say. He couldn't bear to take it seriously, to risk exposing himself when he was so unsure of how she really felt…

"No, I mean… you know. Really _made love_." She blushed, then went on. "It was just… so passionate. So deep. It felt… different."

His heart pounded in his chest as he looked into her eyes.

"Well," he'd answered carefully, "yes, I… I guess you could say that… I felt it, too," he'd admitted.

"Who knew," she'd said, smiling. "Two people making love, who aren't in love."

He'd cautiously smiled back, still unsure how to take it.

"You'll let me know, won't you?" she asked. "If you ever realize you have feelings for me?"

He blinked up at her and regarded her cheeky smile cautiously. Surely she was only asking in jest. It wasn't like she had secretly closeted her feelings for him and was hoping he would admit it right then. That was a horribly primary-schoolish thing to do, and very unlike Hermione.

"You got it," he'd replied. "You'll be the first to know."

And she'd leaned down and kissed him lightly, giggled, and then rolled off of him and gone to sleep.

So now he lay there, the following night, missing having her next to him, and wondered… what would she say if he told her the truth? For the longer he thought about it, the longer he let the thought marinate in his head, the longer he dissected every ounce of his feelings over the last ten years… the more sure he was that he was madly, deeply, and irreversibly in love with Hermione.

* * *

"Professor Granger!"

She looked up from her desk to see none other than Daniel Goldstein standing there while the rest of his class filtered out of the room behind him. He had performed admirably well with the Bubble Head Charm they'd practiced in class today, so she couldn't imagine why he'd need to speak with her after class.

"Yes, Daniel, what is it?" she asked, setting down her quill.

"Professor, I… my mother, she's an Assistant Healer at St. Mungo's and I… I got an owl from her at breakfast this morning… about the virus. She says that they think they've found a cure, at least as of last night…"

Hermione's heart doubled its pace. A cure? They'd found a cure? Already?

"Are you sure, Daniel?" she asked.

"Well, I mean, no, I'm not _personally_ sure," he said, shifting his weight, "but my mum, she's been following it all very closely, and she said in her letter that some of the patients were beginning to come out of their comatose state last night…"

Hermione raised her eyebrows, but couldn't bring herself to say anything.

"And so I… I just, you know… being that you're only here because Flitwick's out… I thought maybe you'd like to know… and I wanted you to know that, once you leave, I… well, I'll miss you. You've sort of grown on me."

She laughed a little at that and smiled.

"I'll miss you, as well, Daniel. You really remind me a lot of myself when I was your age. But for now, let's operate under the assumption that nothing is changing until Professor McGonagall tells me otherwise. All right?"

"All right," he agreed. "But hey, at least Professor Potter is here to stay, right?"

And with a smile, he turned and walked out.

She bit her lip and tried to reign in the wealth of emotions she was feeling, for in only ten minutes, her second year class would be walking into the room.

For just about two months, she'd known this day would come. She had known that she would eventually have to leave and go back to her desk-job Auror days. Until now, however, that day always seemed like it was somewhere in the distant future. Granted it wasn't yet confirmed, but this news from Daniel meant that her time at Hogwarts was most likely rapidly drawing to a close.

Try as she might to muster some feeling of happiness and relief – for the victims and their families, if nothing else – she was shocked to find that she couldn't. It had never occurred to her that she would love it here so much, but suddenly she was absolutely sure that she would be heartbroken to leave, now that it had a distinct possibility of happening very soon.

She couldn't quite put her finger on why she was so crestfallen, exactly. Perhaps it was her newfound love for teaching, or her nostalgia at being back in the castle, or simply the thrill of doing something new and different.

_Or_, she thought suddenly, her stomach jumping, _perhaps it's Harry._

True, she had begun to get accustomed to their frequent… sexual escapades. How could she not? He was so fabulous in bed, and handsome, and her best friend. She hardly ever thought about Ron anymore at all. She felt so comfortable with Harry, and now, suddenly, she'd have to leave this newfound security blanket behind.

_Security blanket?_ She thought. What a crass choice of words. Hadn't she said to him, just last night, that she felt like they'd been "making love," not just having sex? She'd meant it when she said it, but after seeing the look on Harry's face she'd tried to lighten the mood by joking about him falling for her. "You'll let me know if you ever realize you have feelings for me, won't you?" she'd said.

Whatever possessed her to say such an asinine thing she'd probably never figure out, but the awkwardness had washed away and they'd gone to sleep without discussing it again.

But the sex… it had just been… and the look in his eyes when their gazes locked as she came on top of him…

She had no more time to devote to this line of thought, however, as the door to her classroom opened and the first few second years began to trickle in. Sighing, she resigned herself to ask McGonagall later about any developments at St. Mungo's and then prepared herself to go over the _Impervius_ charm.

* * *

Harry's stomach felt like ice.

"They've found a cure?" he repeated back to her, as they sat in his room before dinner.

"According to Daniel Goldstein, yes," she answered. "His mother is an assistant Healer on the team that's been monitoring the victims."

"But obviously nothing's been said to McGonagall yet," Harry reasoned. "We all know she'll call a staff meeting the first moment that she hears anything from St. Mungo's."

"And that's what I said to Daniel," she said. "I mean I'm sure his mother isn't lying, there probably has been progress made, but…" she paused, and Harry watched her carefully as she finished, "For now, we just have to assume nothing has changed."

She was definitely upset. There was no doubt about it. She clearly didn't want to leave yet. Of course, Harry didn't want her leaving, either, but he'd thought that she wouldn't be so keen to stay…

"Do I hear a tint of longing in your voice?" he asked, smiling. "Are you not the one who didn't even want to come to Hogwarts in the first place?"

She smiled down at her knees and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

"I guess I've grown to like it here," she said, glancing up at him. "It's been really wonderful, being back and being a teacher… and spending so much time with you."

His heart skipped, but he said nothing.

"I think Neville will be even more crushed," she continued. "He really seems to have a passion for teaching. I wonder if Daniel also talked to him…"

Daniel hadn't said anything to Harry that morning, but then again, why should he have? Harry was a permanent professor now; he had nothing to lose by the victims' recovery.

Nothing to lose besides the woman he loved, but… Daniel didn't need to know that.

"I think you're right, we have to just wait for McGonagall to call a staff meeting before we go assuming anything," said Harry finally, reaching over and taking her hand. "As happy as I am that these poor people are finally going to come back to the school… that everyone else who's been affected will go back to their families… I have to confess that I'm definitely not happy about the prospect of you leaving."

She smiled over at him. "You just like the sex."

The words hit like an arrow to his stomach. She couldn't be farther from the truth. A small voice in his head shouted, _Tell her! Tell her now! Here's your chance!_

Brave Gryffindor Head of House though he might be, however, he knew that confessing to Hermione that he was, in fact, in love with her – that it wasn't just the sex – was definitely not the right thing to do. It was too soon, her pain was still too fresh… and hell, for all he knew, for her it _was _"just about the sex."

Instead, he carefully crafted his response to be platonic.

"Hermione, don't say that," he said. "The sex is great, yeah… I think we can both attest to that… but you're my best friend. I've spent almost two months seeing you every day, sharing every meal with you, laughing and talking with you every evening, just like we did when we were students… it'll be hard to let those things go so suddenly, and have to stay here while you go home."

She smiled. "I know, Harry. I'll miss you, too. I really will. But for now… I'm still here. Let's enjoy it while we can."

* * *

The word that a cure might have been found had spread fast, so none of the teachers were surprised the following morning when it was announced that there would be a staff meeting taking place over lunch.

They all sat in a semi-circle in magically conjured chairs around McGonagall's desk. Harry and Hermione sat next to each other, and Neville was on Hermione's other side, on the end of the circle. The other teachers kept glancing their way, knowing that it was likely that Hermione and Neville were about to hear news that meant they would soon be departing from Hogwarts.

"I'm sure you have all heard the whispers among the students that a cure for this mystery virus has been found," McGonagall began. There were various nods of affirmation around the room. "I have received official word from St. Mungo's as of late yesterday evening that this is _believed_ to be true, but I stress the word _believed_."

"Whatever do you mean, Minerva?" asked Professor Vector. "Surely the Healers know what they are talking about."

"I never said they didn't," countered McGonagall. "However, the Healer in charge of this project has cautioned me that these signs of improvement are extremely preliminary, and it is not likely that any of the victims will be leaving St. Mungo's anytime soon."

Harry allowed himself a private moment of relief that Hermione wouldn't be leaving just yet, and resisted the urge to grasp her hand.

"What signs of improvement have been seen?" asked Slughorn. "What do we have to go on that this is promising at all?"

"I have been told that over half of the victims have been roused from their comas, including the ten students and two… remaining teachers… from Hogwarts," answered McGonagall. There was a moment of silence understood by all present as a memoriam for Maelyss. "But the Healers monitoring the situation have stressed that they are all very weak and still rather delusional. Being roused from the coma is only the first step in what I can assume is a long process of healing for all the victims." She paused and sighed. "As far as I can see at this point, it is quite likely that our temporary teachers… may very well be here through to O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. examinations."

Harry dared to look at Hermione and Neville. He wasn't surprised to see Neville smiling, and even Hermione was having trouble hiding her expression of relief.

"Of course, based on the success of our new teachers," McGonagall went on, and smiled at Hermione and Neville as she peered at them over her spectacles, "I'm sure that no one is too upset that they are staying for a little longer, though our hearts do ache for those still trapped under the grip of the virus."

Neville smiled and scratched at the back of his head, and Hermione chanced a glance at Harry and he saw her cheeks coloring slightly as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

* * *

"_Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded…"_

"_It cannot be any other way. I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last…"_

"_You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself… I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me…"_

"_You see? Harry Potter is dead! He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"_

"_Harry Potter… The Boy Who Lived… come to die…"_

"Argh!" Harry yelled, sitting straight up in bed. His chest was heaving with the effort of his breath to keep up with the pace of his rapidly beating heart.

"Harry?"

A voice… next to him… Hermione… she was there…

"Harry, Harry what happened?" she said, sitting up and touching his arm.

"I… nothing… nightmare…" he answered, still struggling to bring himself back to the present. Right, of course Hermione was there… they'd come to his room after dinner, they'd… they'd had sex, they'd fallen asleep together…

He kept repeating these facts in his head over and over.

"Harry, shh, it's okay," she said, and she put her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder. "It's okay to cry, it's okay…"

It was a shock to realize that he was crying. The tears were streaming down his face. He choked out a sob and buried his head in his hands, fighting back the fresh memories… words that had been said in this very castle, on the expansive grounds on which it stood…

"It's over now," she whispered, stroking his hair. "It's over."

The moonlight shone in through the sheer curtains on the window, basking the room in a dim blue glow. It was that same moon that had shone down on the Dark Forest the night that he'd died… the night that he'd allowed Voldemort to kill him…

Except he hadn't died… He'd fought back. His unconscious body had been taken over by his fully conscious soul. He'd allowed the piece of Voldemort's soul inside of him to fester, to wither, and to die… and he'd made the conscious decision to come back, and finish what Voldemort had started sixteen years previously.

Harry had outsmarted him.

Harry had finished him.

Harry had killed him.

It was over.

"Harry?" said Hermione hesitantly. He took a deep, shuddering breath in and out and then looked over at her.

"Oh, Harry…" she sighed, and she wiped at his tears with her gentle fingers.

"It won't stop," he managed to say. "The dreams… the memories… that last night…"

"I know," she said simply, and pulled him close to her. "I know it's hard."

"But it's over," he said, repeating her words. "It's over now… I just… I have to keep telling myself. It's over."

"I'm here for you, Harry. I'm always here," she said, pulling away a little so she could meet his eyes.

"And I'm so thankful that you are," he answered. He stared back at her, looked at how the moonlight shone on her hair, how it glistened on her skin… If he had doubted before, he was sure, now.

He was in love with her. Every last inch of her. He'd been in love with her since their sixth year. Maybe even before then.

And he couldn't tell her.

But he could sure as hell kiss her.

He closed his eyes and quickly captured her mouth in his. She seemed surprised at first, but responded to him after a moment and let him explore her mouth. He ran his tongue along hers and then gently bit on her lower lip, sucking lightly, before moving to her neck.

He wanted her. He needed her. He had to make love to her. He was already hard, already desperate for it…

Slowly, he laid her onto her back, still kissing at her neck, and dipped his hand between her legs, slipping his fingers into her crevice. She was still wet from the sex they'd had before going to sleep, so his fingers easily slid inside of her.

She gasped and stiffened in surprise, but relaxed when he kept moving his fingers. "Mmm, Harry…" she sighed. "Are you… are you sure…"

"Yes," he cut her off, and then kissed her again. "I want to make love to you," he finished, looking into her eyes. The moonlight made them sparkle. If she made the connection to what she'd said two nights previously, she didn't show it.

"Okay," she whispered, and lifted her head to kiss him. He returned it, then slowly, steadily, positioned himself on top of her, kissing at her neck while he did so.

"Are you ready?" he asked huskily, looking down at her. He wanted her so badly, but he was a little concerned… normally she was able to enjoy far more foreplay from him before he attempted the actual sex…

"Yes, Harry… yes," she whispered back. "Take me, Harry…"

His mind immediately jumped back to the tent, when she had first said those words to him… when they'd lain with each other, naked for the first time, playing, fondling, teasing… and in a gasp of desperation, she'd begged him… _Take me, Harry…_

This time, however, instead of replying with "Are you sure," he obeyed and slowly slid himself inside of her.

She'd had several orgasms earlier in the evening, so she was incredibly tight, and so wet… he moaned at how good she felt and leaned down and kissed her as he started to thrust faster, increasing his pace and rhythm until she was panting beneath him, fighting back screams of pleasure into strangled gasps. He saw her hands reach out and clutch the sheets as her eyes closed and her head rolled back towards the headboard.

"Ohhh, Harry…" she moaned, and opened her eyes again to look at him. He took the opportunity to lean down and kiss her again, thrusting even deeper as she reached up and put her arms around him, clutching his back as she moved her hips to meet him with every thrust. He moved his mouth to her neck again and kissed and sucked as her throaty moans turned to high pitched gasps and he knew she was close…

"Harry, Harry, ohhh, faster… faster, _please_…" she begged, and he obliged, lifting his mouth from her neck and kissing her yet again as he increased his speed. She kissed him back fervently and moaned into his mouth as he thrust in and out of her, and he could feel her tightening, could feel it building, he knew her release was coming, and so was his… Suddenly he felt her nails digging into his back and she kissed him fiercely as he felt her convulsing around him, and he broke the kiss as he felt his own release, moaning her name overtop of her as he gave his last few thrusts and then slowed to a stop.

"Hermione…" he gasped, panting. "That was… I just… I…"

She, too, was panting. "Harry…" she said, "You don't… need to… apologize…"

Despite his exhaustion he looked down at her and smiled. "How did you know?"

She sighed and raised her head to kiss him. "Because I know you," she whispered. "Don't apologize," she repeated. "You… needed it. And I… I wanted it."

"Really?" he asked.

"I always want you," she answered. "I think a part of me always has."

His heart skipped, but her cheeky smile squashed the hopeful part of his soul that thought maybe she meant that in the same way he'd discovered he felt about her.

"But seriously," she said, reaching up and stroking his cheek. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," he answered, and cracked a small smile. "Thank you… sex aside… for being here, for waking up to comfort me, to be with me…"

"Of course, Harry," she said. "Always."


End file.
